


Bring on the Night

by Ruby J (rubygirl29)



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: ATF AU, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/Ruby%20J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another way Chris and Vin meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring on the Night

**Bring On The Night**

 _Twilight, and the street lights are comin’ on.  
I’m in a steam of cars on this boulevard headin’ home ...  
I can hardly wait for you to make what went wrong today seem right.  
It’s been a long hard day, so bring on the night._

 _Bring on the night, pull down the shades  
Lock the world outside and throw the key away.  
Turn on this feeling, and turn out the lights,  
Let’s call it a day and bring on the night._*

*Charlie Craig, Keith Stegall, Alan Jackson. (BMI/ASCAP)

Chris Larabee’s tired eyes followed the line of tail lights strung before him like a trail of hot coals. He, along with about ten thousand other folks, was fleeing the city for the weekend. The drive was always tedious and he had tried his best to escape from the mountain of paperwork on his desk before the whistle blew at 5:30 for every other damn office in town. It hadn’t worked that way. He’d wound up staying later and getting caught in rush hour. It was always worse on Fridays.

He yanked at his tie, loosening the knot and shoved his sleeves up his forearms. His head was beginning an ungodly throb and his stomach was reminding him that he’d chosen to work through lunch. The cup of black coffee he’d downed in the middle of the afternoon had been like gasoline thrown on the acidic fire of his stomach. Cursing, he reached into his glove compartment and fumbled for the pack of antacids he kept there, found it and thumbed a couple out of the wrapper. They were chalky and unpalatable, but marginally effective. They’d hold him until he got home.

Home.

For a long time that word had meant something to him – a place of refuge from the outside world where Sarah would greet him with a kiss and Adam would run to him and hug him so hard around his knees that sometimes they’d both end up on the floor, giggling and wrestling until Sarah, laughing nearly as hard as they were, pulled them apart. Most nights they ate together as a family, but on Friday nights, Sarah would feed Adam early and put him to bed, and she and Chris would have their own dinner later out on the deck or in front of the fireplace, depending on the season.

Then that was ripped away, and it was a very long time before Chris could face coming home to that empty house and its memories without drowning those ghosts in a bottle of whiskey. Eventually he was able to walk through the door without bracing himself for that shock of Adam’s embrace. For Sarah’s kiss. He’d stripped the master bedroom of Sarah’s softness; the quiet colors and subtle floral accents. New paint, new furniture, new carpeting. Then he could sleep there again. It was just a house, someplace to lay his head, and Friday nights were just an excuse to stay out late and drink until he passed out on the couch in the office. Somehow he’d kept enough sense to refrain from driving in that condition. He smiled slightly. Maybe it wasn’t his sense, but Buck’s fist to his chin that had saved him.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris staggered out of the bar into the rain-sodden night. In minutes his blond hair was plastered to his skull, his shirt soaked through like a clammy second skin. He dug in his pocket for his keys.

Where the fuck had he put ‘em?

Cursing, he patted his hip pocket, breast pocket. Was he so Goddamn stupid that he’d left ‘em in the bar? Didn’t wanna go back in to look. He swayed in a gust of wind, shivering as it cut through his wet clothing.

“You lookin’ fer these?” Buck was standing at the curb, keys dangling from his fingers. “I don’t think so, pard.”

“Give ‘em t’me!” Chris lunged forward, stumbling and awkward. Buck snatched the keys away before Chris could grab them. “You mother-fuckin’ bastard –” he snarled, angry and lethal, reaching for the gun at his side. It wasn’t there and for a moment he was brought up short, trying to remember why he wasn’t wearing it. Where had he put it?

“You took my gun,” he accused.

“Nope. You took it off before you left the office. Figured ya had enough sense to realize what you were doin’.”

“No. You took it – ” He grabbed for Buck’s sidearm and never saw the haymaker Buck laid across his chin. He went down, darkness surrounding him, despair sucking the air from his lungs. His eyes closed, nausea swept over him and he curled up tightly around it.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around him, held him close. He tasted blood in his mouth and tried to spit it out. Buck wiped the spittle and blood from his face, helped him into the Bronco and drove him to the loft.

He woke the next morning, sick as a dog and with a head that felt like lightning had cleaved through his skull. He staggered to the bathroom; didn’t quite make it to the commode. Vomit splashed over the ceramic tile and cold porcelain bowl. Chris went down on his knees in it, puking and shivering until not even dry heaves could wring anything more from his abused stomach.

He clawed a towel from the rack and started wiping up the floor, got dizzy from the effort, and fell forward, narrowly missing cracking his skull on the edge of the seat. The soggy towel cushioned his fall and he lay there shivering on the tiles.

Buck found him there. He sat Chris up against bathroom wall and cleaned him off. Didn’t say a word until he had wiped up the floor and the toilet. Then he took his shaving mirror from the shelf and held it in front of Chris’s face.

“Take a look, Chris, and tell me if that’s what you want Sarah lookin’ down at every mornin’. If that’s the man she loved, the father of her children, the daddy Adam was so proud to be with. ‘Cause it sure ain’t the man I call friend.”

Chris’s eyes were closed and Buck’s hard hand grabbed his bruised jaw in a painful grip. “Take a look! You owe me that much, you sonofabitch.”

Chris had opened his eyes and looked. The haggard, red-eyed, sickly reflection belonged to one of the alcoholic derelicts that hung around outside the city mission, not to Christopher Adam Larabee. He had shoved the mirror aside and sat there on the cold tile crying, while his best friend held him close and told him it was all right.

Maybe it was all right, but it wasn’t easy; he had slid back more than a few paces, but each time a little less. The nights at the office eventually became nights at Buck’s place, the binge drinking became sporadic rather than habitual. He returned with Buck to the ranch and they worked at the small changes that helped Chris come to terms with his loss – not eradicating Sarah and Adam’s presence, but making the ranch a place Chris could live in without memories tearing him apart at every turn.

And then miraculously, unexpectedly, it had become a home again.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

The air conditioning in the Federal Building was down for repairs and Chris’s small office was stifling. The blinds on the windows were slight defense against the summer sun and he had discarded his suit coat and his tie, rolled up his sleeves. His blond hair was damp with sweat and an occasional scrawl of perspiration slid down his cheeks as he worked. He was writing his third proposal in as many weeks, petitioning AD Orrin Travis to talk to his supervisors about hiring a sniper to add the Special Operations Group he headed, ATF Team Seven. Their last sniper had transferred out six weeks ago. Tom Averil had been a good man, but he was more interested in a training position at Quantico than a field position in the Western Division of the ATF. When a position had opened up, Chris had written a glowing reference for Averil and resigned himself to losing his sharpshooter.

It wasn’t a good time to lose Averil. They were in the middle of a complicated case, one that held the potential of being very big, very dangerous, and Chris felt vulnerable. The five other members of the team had been hand selected by him and they were the best he could find, but Averil’s loss had pushed the case to the brink. Chris felt like he was teetering blindfolded on the edge of a precipice.

He dug his thumbs into his temples, making small circles to ease the screws that were being slowly driven into his skull. Pressure? Hell, he’d asked for it. Begged for it. *Bring it on, baby! I’m Chris, fuckin’ almightier than God, Larabee, and I can take everything you heap on me and more.*

Yeah, right.

Disgusted, he jerked open the desk drawer and snapped open the bottle of Excedrin Migraine he kept there. He poured a glass of warm water from the carafe on his desk and downed three. He wished the water was whiskey, but that was a solace he’d denied himself unless he knew there was no chance he’d be called to duty. Once he started drinking, he had a hell of a time stopping, even though there was not enough whiskey in the western world to fill the hole in his heart.

His phone shrilled, jolting pain into his head. He snatched it from the cradle. “Larabee!” he snapped.

“Is that any way to greet the man who has good news for you?” Orrin Travis’s mildly irritated voice made Chris wince.

“Sorry, sir. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Really? Would the addition of a sharpshooter to your team improve it?”

Chris sat upright in his chair. “Please tell me that you aren’t joking.”

“I don’t usually joke about the job, Chris.”

“No, sir.”

“I’m sending him down. His name’s Tanner, Vin Tanner. We snatched him up from the U.S. Marshals service. He’s been through Quantico.”

“Is he any good?”

Travis gave a dry chuckle. “Read his credentials, Chris. And say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you.” With reservations. He hung up the phone. “Buck!” He hollered out to his second in command. “Get in here.”

“Ya don’t hafta shout, old son.” Wilmington lounged against the door. “What’s up?”

“Travis just found us a sharpshooter.”

A slow smile spread across Buck’s face. “I reckon that’s good news, right?”

“We’ll know in about five minutes. Keep an eye out, okay?”

“Sure will. You know anything about him?”

“Name’s Vin Tanner. He’s from the Marshals service. You ever hear of him?”

Buck shook his head. “Nope. Must be a new guy.” He gave Chris a hard look. “Look, Chris. Losin’ Tom was rough, but he *wanted* to get out of field work. Ya can’t blame a man fer wantin’ to be outta the line of fire. And ya can’t blame yourself because you chose to stay in it.” Buck met Larabee’s hot, green glare calmly.

“S’cuse me. I’m lookin’ fer Chris Larabee.”

Both Buck and Chris jumped at that soft voice and Buck turned, his big frame blocking Chris’s view of the newcomer. “Guess you found him.” Buck held out his hand. “You Tanner?”

“Yeah. You Larabee?”

Buck grinned. “Sorry, son. Not me.” He moved aside and Chris caught his first glimpse of Vin Tanner, sharpshooter extraordinaire.

He saw a slim young man, not much above average height. Chestnut hair worn much longer than regulations normally allowed brushed the collar of his denim shirt. He looked like a damn college student, not a deadly marksman.

Then Chris looked into his eyes. Blue and wide, fringed with dark lashes, and knowing. Not the eyes of an innocent, but they struck to Chris’s heart as if they could read every part of him. He felt a shiver in his bones, as if he knew this man, had fought beside him before. He hadn’t, not in this life. Unable to look away, unwilling to reveal more of himself, Chris stood slowly. “Come on in, Agent Tanner.”

He slipped silently into the office and held out the manila folder that held his personnel records. “Reckon ya need t’see this.” His voice was a soft rasp, tinged with a Texas drawl.

Chris took the folder in fingers that tingled slightly. He sat down, opened it. Tanner remained standing, poised like a man about to flee from a threat. Chris looked up into those damn blue eyes. “Have a seat. You want some coffee?”

“Thanks, I’m fine.” When Chris continued to look at him, he sat down, still wary, but perhaps more curious than alarmed.

Chris read the file. “You were in the Rangers?” he asked, slightly incredulous. Special Forces were elite units, taking only the best. Chris knew. He had been a SEAL.

“Fer three years. After, I did a bit a’ bounty huntin’ before I went into the Marshals. Worked there for the last couple years.”

“Didn’t like those boys much?” Chris asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.

Tanner answered with a slight reluctance. “Figured I’d gone about as far’s I could.”

“You know Rick Engberg?”

For the first time, Tanner didn’t meet Chris’s study. “Knew him.”

“The man’s an ass,” Chris said, and Tanner’s eyes opened wide as if he couldn’t believe he’d heard right.

“Didn’t know him that well,” Tanner said cautiously, and then when Chris grinned, he smiled. “But yeah, I heard that.”

They were speaking the same language, and once again that frisson of foreknowledge made its way down Chris’s spine. He looked down at the file. Travis had written a note in the margin. *You’re a fool if you don’t hire this man.*

He was about to offer Tanner the position when Buck charged into the room. “It’s goin’ down, Chris. We get to that warehouse now, or we don’t get there at all.”

Cursing, Chris reached for his jacket. “Get the others.”

“Chris, we can’t go in there without a shooter –”

He turned to Tanner. “I reckon we got ourselves one,” he said. “Welcome to Team Seven, Tanner. Let’s ride.” He held out his hand to the Texan. Without conscious action, they had clasped each other’s forearms, the affirmation of a bond beyond friendship. How far beyond it would go, neither man could have said.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Tanner was the best Chris had ever seen; calm and cool under fire, deadly accurate at any distance and under circumstances that sent shivers racing down Chris’s spine at the risks he took. He was willing to work undercover, got along well with the difficult and diffident Ezra Standish, inspired JD to awe, Josiah Sanchez to fervent prayer, and drove Nathan Jackson to despair at his tendency to bleed, bruise and break at regular intervals.

His solitary and apparently celibate state worried Buck, who, after several attempts to lure the reticent sharpshooter on blind dates, was forced to admit defeat. He threw up his hands and relegated him to the same sad, dateless existence that Chris seemed content to accept.

*“Maybe you ought to date each other,”* Buck had muttered in all innocence, never knowing how close he had come to the truth.

Truth was, Vin was gay. Chris had learned it one night following a stakeout when he and Vin had both downed a few more beers than they should have. They’d gotten to talking about a lot of things; the job, time in the service, how they’d gotten to the ATF. With Chris, it was pretty straightforward. High school jock, starting a college degree in criminal justice, a decision to enlist when a romance broke up and seeing the world seemed like a good idea. Chris’s adrenaline habit and friendship with Buck Wilmington had led them to the SEALs. Then when his knees wouldn’t take the physical punishment the teams required and he accepted that it was time to get out, he returned to college, finished his degree and interviewed for a job with the ATF.

“See, boring,” he said and took another swallow of beer.

Tanner was stretched out in a spectacular slouch, slim body relaxed, blue eyes a bit more unfocused than usual. He rolled his head against the back of the booth where they were sitting. “Naw, sounds ... normal. Like a reg’lar life.”

Chris lifted a brow. “And yours wasn’t?”

A soft snort of laughter. “Normal? Hell, normal ain’t been part a’ my life since I’s a little feller. Maybe never was meant t’be, the way I am.”

“The way you are?” Chris puzzled. “Two arms, two legs, two eyes ... you look pretty normal to me.”

Vin had studied him, those eyes sharper than they had been, more measuring. “Chris ... I ain’t seen my personnel files, but I figured something was in there about me.”

Chris had scarcely scanned the file, but he was pretty damn sure Travis had read it thoroughly. If there were something in Vin’s background that would have precluded his assignment to Team Seven, he hadn’t considered it important enough to emphasize. “Nothing that put me off adding you to the team.”

“Oh.” Vin stared down into his beer. “I reckon ya got a right t’know, then.” Soft voice dropping even softer, a flush on his cheekbones. “Chris ... I’m gay.”

After a moment of stunned silence during which Vin had watched him as warily as if he were a loaded gun about to go off, Chris started laughing. “God! That’s good!” he wheezed. “God ...” He finally wore down to chuckles, wiped his eyes. Vin was watching him like he was gone totally mad.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted quietly. “Sorry. I jist thought ya knew.”

“Buck ...” Chris shook his head, smiling. “Poor Buck. He’s been frettin’ about your social life ever since he met you. Can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t want to date some of his ladies. You’re driving him insane, you know that?”

“Are you gonna tell him? Tell the others?”

“It ain’t their business,” Chris said.

“Is it a problem for you?” Vin asked.

“No.” No doubts, no overly complicated explanations. Just that one word.

Vin sighed softly, his spine relaxing once more. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

And they had gone back to small talk and beer, the odd confidence out there, but not an obstacle. More like a secret trust that only seemed to affirm the bond they already shared.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 2

Chris began dating sporadically; nothing serious, but enough to satisfy Buck’s endless badgering and throw him off the topic of Vin’s love life, or lack thereof. He felt oddly protective of the quiet Texan. He respected his skills, valued his friendship. He’d asked Vin to come out to the ranch once in a while after he discovered that Tanner was living in a walk-up apartment in Purgatorio -- possibly the worst neighborhood in Denver -- just to get him out of harm’s way occasionally. He saw no reason to change that. Tanner loved the ranch, loved to work with Chris’s horses. Chris found his presence restful. After years of spending too much time alone with the ghosts in his past, having another person in the house on a more or less regular basis reminded him of the simple pleasures of companionship.

Buck attributed the new, mellow Larabee to his more active sex life. Chris wasn’t about to tell him that the dates had been more platonic than the ladies would have liked; but Chris had never slept around much, and wasn’t in the mood for the entanglement of a long-term relationship. No time, no energy ... no desire. Which went back to no time and no energy. He didn’t give it much thought.

His curiosity was a different matter entirely. Vin didn’t talk about his life outside the job. Chris knew he worked long hours uncomplainingly, that he drove a battered Jeep because Purgatorio wasn’t the sort of place to have a fancier vehicle, that he always had kind words for his elderly neighbors and candy for the younger kids in his building. His apartment was furnished with a mix of new and second hand furniture, and he kept it scrupulously clean despite the building falling to bits around him.

Personally, his life was a cipher.

Chris had known gays; knew that their lifestyle was a lot freer sexually, but had never made a habit of speculation. He figured it was none of his business as long as it didn’t interfere with the job. Tanner was so quiet and self-contained that it was hard to tell if he was into Denver’s gay nightlife. He never came in to work with a hangover or looking like he’d spent an evening in sexual dissipation, but he also never took private calls – if he had any – at his desk.

He seemed to enjoy off-duty time with the team. They all preferred each other’s company to solitary social pursuits. But there were still plenty of nights when dates or other engagements split them up for down time. Chris wondered what Tanner did on those nights. Did he go home, settle in to watch the small TV with the flicker that just about drove Chris crazy when he spent time in front of it? Did he frequent gay bars and clubs? Or was he so deep in the closet that he didn’t even dare that much?

The answers to Chris’s questions came unexpectedly, and on the job.

A file landed on his desk one morning, sent down by Travis and red-flagged for immediate attention. It seemed a bar called The Brass Rail was at the center of an ongoing investigation involving liquor license violations that were being swept under the rug by somebody, somehow. Money was changing hands and Travis wanted Team Seven to find and follow the trail.

Chris looked at the calendar. Ezra was already on an undercover surveillance that night, Josiah was too recognizable, JD would be way out of place – too young to be the type who would hang out at a bar that didn’t have punk music blaring on the jukebox. Nathan was attending a family wedding with Rain in Kansas City. That left Buck, Vin, and himself.

He sighed, called his two agents in. When they were settled with coffee and copies of the file, Chris read through it with them. He sensed a bit of unease in Vin’s posture, nothing overt, just a general tension in the spine that made his slouch look more studied than casual.

“Well?” he asked when they had finished. “You want to go on a bit of a recon tonight?”

“Sure,” said Vin.

“No.” Buck’s mouth shut down hard on the word.

“What?” Chris glared at his friend. “You got something more pressing on your agenda, *Stud*? Sarcasm edged his voice, made Buck grimace.

“Chris, I can’t go waltzin’ inta the Brass Rail. Jist wouldn’t work.”

“Why the hell not?”

Buck laughed softly, stroked his moustache. “Chris, ol’ son, you really need to get out more. The Brass Rail is a gay bar. Now, I ain’t ‘xactly the type, if you catch my drift.”

“Straight fellers go t’gay bars, Buck.” Vin’s soft voice made them both turn to him. “You afraid some fag’s gonna hit on you?”

“Aren’t you?” Buck challenged. “Hell, Vin. With that hair and those big blue eyes, if I was gay, I’d hit on you!”

The tension level in the room had shot up into the red zone and Chris was trying to find a way to defuse it. “Buck,” he warned, but Vin interrupted with a laugh.

“And maybe I’d take ya up on it. Y’ain’t such a bad looker yerself.” He winked and suddenly Buck was laughing with him.

“Junior, I got a reputation to protect.”

Relieved, surprised that Vin had reacted with humor instead of anger or a retreat into silence, Chris sighed. “All right. Vin, you mind going there with me?”

Vin’s gaze rested on Chris for a moment before he answered. “Naw. Let’em take their best shot. Ain’t gonna bother me none.”

“Chris, you want me to do surveillance?” Buck offered. He might not be the type to be a customer, but he’d be damned if he let his teammates go into a dangerous situation without back-up.

Chris considered. “No. We’ll just do a reconnaissance, get a feel for the place, figure out the chain of command. There might be nothing to go on, anyway.”

Buck arched a brow, chortled. “Might try a back door operation.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Buck.”

Wilmington looked at Vin. His cheeks were flaming, his eyes downcast. “Don’t worry, Junior. That Larabee glare’ll keep your virtue safe.” He squeezed Vin’s shoulder, bent close to his ear. “Sweetie.”

“Buck!” Chris hissed.

But again Vin laughed. “Thanks, *honey.*” He swatted Wilmington’s hand aside, and the big agent ambled from the room, whistling.

Despite the bantering tone in his voice, Chris could see something hard and wary flitting through Vin’s eyes. The last thing he needed was ill-feeling between two men who had worked together seamlessly and who he needed to keep on that good footing. He cleared his throat, making Tanner look up at him.

“Vin, I’m sorry about that.”

“Why? Ya feel ya have to apologize ‘r I’ll file a harassment charge?” The edge to Vin’s voice made a chill scrawl down Chris’s neck.

“Buck’s an ass sometimes, but there’s not a mean bone in his body or a prejudice against anybody as long as they’re decent human beings.”

“Aw, hell. I know the difference between harassment and plain old male homophobia.”

“Buck’s not –” Tanner’s raised brow and twist of a grin made Chris stop. “All right, maybe he’s not comfortable in a situation where a guy’s gonna hit on him. And trust me, he’s been hit on before.”

“Really? The other fellers still alive?” Vin asked, not entirely sure that he meant it in jest.

Chris laughed. “Yeah, Buck lets ‘em down real easy. I’d say he was kind of flattered by it, but as he says, his door don’t swing that way.” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed now. “Guess it’s you and me tonight, pard. Have you been to the Brass Rail before?”

Slight color rose on Tanner’s cheeks. “Once. It’s a real low-key sort of place. Nice. Kinda country and western. Mix of patrons. Mostly gay, but some not. The food’s pretty good. Hard to believe it’s a cover for somethin’ illegal.”

“Would anybody know you?”

Vin shrugged. “It’s a bar. I sat on a stool, talked to a few guys. Watched a ball game. Went home. Alone.” He met Chris’s gaze levelly, no shame there. “Somebody might remember me, but it was a while ago.”

Chris appraised Vin’s casual attire: jeans, boots, dark green and blue plaid flannel shirt over a black tee. “What should I wear?”

Vin laughed at that. “Hell, wear whatever ya want.” His eyes narrowed. “Told ya it was country and western. Suit might be over the top.” He chuckled quietly, amused at something.

“What?” Chris asked.

“Ain’t no rhinestone cowboys there, so I’d leave the spangles at home.” His eyes glinted with pure wicked humor and Chris grinned. Decided this evening might actually be interesting, might even answer a few of his questions. Might raise a few new ones ... He was shocked to feel a stir in his groin. Pure excitement. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris’s stomach was alive with butterflies by the time he picked Vin up from his apartment. He had changed at the office from his suit to more casual clothing; black jeans, charcoal gray t-shirt, black leather jacket. Vin was similarly attired in jeans, this time darker and unfaded, a snowy white t-shirt, and a scarred brown leather bomber jacket. His hair was loose and shiny, freshly washed. Chris wondered if there was more to this than a surveillance. Looking for a partner, perhaps? And then irritably chastised himself for the twinge of anger he felt at that thought. Did he mind when Buck was trolling for women?

They didn’t say much during the ride. Vin gave him directions; they parked a block from the bar and walked the rest of the way. There was a steady stream of pedestrian traffic in the neighborhood. Chris tried not to look at the couples, wondered if they were looking at him and Vin together. He felt itchy, nervous, conspicuous.

“Been a while since ya worked undercover?” Vin asked.

“Why?”

“Ya seem a mite tense.”

Chris smiled. “Just a mite?”

“I was bein’ tactful. Ya look like a cat walkin’ into a kennel.” He shook his head. “Relax. It’s jist a bar pretty much like any other bar. Ya go in, order a drink, watch TV. Talk.”

Chris rotated his shoulders. Tried to look less tense. Saw Vin’s mouth quirk at the corners and had to smile back. They halted in front of a red brick storefront with a dark green awning overhanging the door. The oval window in the door was lettered in gold.

“Ya ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Chris said and opened the door.

Inside, the Brass Rail was dimly lit and the air was redolent with the aroma of food and tobacco smoke. There was a lot of polished oak and gleaming brass. The carpeting was dark green. There was a long, showy bar along the back wall. Mirrors reflected the amber gleam of good whiskey and colorful labels. Wall sconces with flame-shaped bulbs lit discreet booths tucked along the walls. There was a general aura of good cheer and laughter.

Nice.

He tooked at the patrons. Mostly male, though there were women as well, couples of both sexes, straight and gay. Nobody seemed to mind the sight of gays holding hands or embracing. No one *cared.*

“C’mon. Let’s get us a booth, okay?” Vin inclined his head towards one being bussed by a male server in tight black slacks, white shirt and red suspenders. Chris nodded, took a breath. Was startled when Vin’s hand reached back to capture his. He looked back at Chris, winked. “Might as well blend in.”

Vin’s hand was warm, hard. There were rough calluses on his palms from working the horses and hours spent on the firing range. Chris felt long fingers twine through his, and he let Vin draw him along, draw him into illusion.

They sat at the booth, their hands still linked on the tabletop. The server introduced himself as “Thom. Th-om.” He flicked long lashes at Chris, flirtatious and friendly.

Vin cast a slightly feral grin up at Thom and stroked Chris’s knuckles possessively. “Ya want t’order, lover?”

The rasp of his voice turned the word into a caress. Chris’s throat went dry. Hell ... he’d better have a drink. He *wanted* a drink. He ordered a draft beer, figuring he needed to keep his wits about him more than he needed to quench his thirst. Vin’s thumb moving across his knuckles was distracting enough.

He could have pulled away, but he didn’t. He could have asked Vin to stop, but he didn’t want to. He felt like there was an electric current running from Vin’s flesh to his, vivid and undeniable; the physical manifestation of the mental link that they had been forging over the last few weeks. He risked looking at Vin. The sharpshooter was watching him, a flicker of blue flame showing beneath shielding lashes, his thumb continuing to make those soft, lazy strokes across the back of Chris’s hand, the touch gentle despite the rough skin of the callus at the base, like the edge of danger he felt in Vin’s usually soothing company.

Thom returned and set their beers down. “Can I get you two anything else or are you sufficient unto yourselves?” he asked with a self-aware smirk.

“Bring us a menu,” Chris said smoothly. “And we’ll let you know.”

Two red leather menus hit the table. “I’ll be back in a few for your order.” He walked away like he hoped Chris was noticing how nice his ass looked in the tight black pants.

Vin snorted softly. “I think ya hurt his feelings.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Shoot. He thinks he is.”

“Well, he’s wrong.”

Vin chuckled. “Now ya got a type?”

Chris didn’t know what to say. That if he had a type, it would be a long-haired Texas sharpshooter? What the hell was he doing thinking like that anyway? And why was he so damn reluctant to break the physical contact between himself and Tanner? Since he couldn’t answer any of those questions, he stayed silent, his eyes focused not on Vin, but on the sight of their entwined hands. Two strong, long-fingered male hands; warm flesh and hard bones. Fascinatingly alike.

“Chris!” Vin’s grip tightened. “Think we got some action at the bar.”

Chris leaned back, turned his head. A tall, dark-haired, swarthy man was leaning on the bar, one foot up on the brass rail. He was talking to a man in a suit on the other side of the bar, and Chris knew who he was. “Shit. That’s Benito Salazar.”

“He know you?” Tanner asked, concerned.

“Not by sight. But I know him from mug shots and crime reports. He’s got a rep as an enforcer.”

“An enforcer for who?”

“Whoever needs the muscle. He’s a mercenary sonofabitch – and I mean that literally.”

“Seems like Travis was right.”

“Seems like.” Chris shifted, started to rise and Vin’s hold lingered as if he were reluctant to let go. “Cover me. I’m going in for a closer look.” He stepped from the booth and walked towards the hall that separated the bar from the restaurant. Obliging of the architects to put the washrooms, the kitchen, and the offices off the same convenient corridor. He got a good look at Salazar as he headed towards the men’s room. Yeah, that was the ugly bastard, all right. And judging from the deer in the headlights look on the other man’s face, he was scared to death of Benito. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was had the guy in the suit frantic.

Chris stepped inside the men’s room, used the facilities, washed his hands, tried to think of what his next move should be. Decided that he needed to have a talk with the manager. He wasn’t sure how to accomplish that with Salazar on the loose. He pushed the door open and looked out, caution putting his senses on alert.

Vin was leaning against the wall, his hands stuck casually in his pockets. When Chris stepped out, Vin snagged him, spun him back against the wall and leaned in, his hands braced above Chris’s shoulders. “Play along,” he whispered in Chris’s ear.

Startled, Chris offered no resistance to the press of Tanner’s body along the length of his, the nudge of his knee between his thighs. Those blue eyes were intense, focused. “Kiss me,” he whispered, and before Chris could react, Vin’s lips were sealed to his.

*It’s just a kiss,* Chris told himself. No different than kissing a woman. Vin’s lips were warm, firm; his taste salty, a bit yeasty from the beer and sweeter than Chris would have thought. And once his initial shock wore off, he figured it wouldn’t matter one way or another if he kissed back. His hands moved down Vin’s back, settled on his hips. He tilted his head at a better angle and then without letting himself think too much, yielded to his instinctive need to be in charge of a situation and took the initiative to deepen the kiss.

Tanner yielded with a gasp that might have been surprise and might have been arousal. But whatever it was, it was like lightning shooting through Chris’s body. Suddenly, the kiss that had started out as a diversion was passionate, intimate, searing as a brand; Chris, who had never kissed another man in his life, knew that he had felt that sort of communion with only one other person and had never thought to feel it again.

“Fuckin’ *maricones.*” A rough shove against Vin broke them apart. Benito Salazar spat on the floor at their feet and walked away without a backward look.

Chris caught his breath, grabbed Vin’s shoulders to steady him and hold him back from retaliating against Salazar. His eyes were wide, a bit wild. The muscles bunched beneath Chris’s hands. He had to be feeling the same disorientation that Chris felt, the same intoxication that came not from liquor, but from the promise of sex and danger. For a moment, their eyes were locked and questioning.

Vin seemed to find an answer before Chris did. His mouth turned up at the corners, knowing and a bit wry. “Thought you’d never come out, partner,” he rasped. “I got tired a’ waitin’.”

Chris grinned, wondering if there were some sort of double entendre in those words, but choosing to leave it alone. He dropped one arm to circle Vin’s hips, curved the other around his neck, bringing him closer. “Hope I’m worth the wait.” He brushed his lips across Vin’s. “Let’s go back to the table and find out, okay?” He whispered in Vin’s ear, breathed in the scent of soap and shampoo that rose from the warmth of Vin’s skin, fought back a powerful urge to lick and taste that flesh. He’d worry about the reason why later.

Vin’s arm was close around his waist as they went back to the booth. They slid in, hands still linked. Chris cocked an eyebrow. “What brought that on?”

The flags of color on Vin’s cheekbones darkened. “Salazar started headin’ towards the washroom. I got sharp sight, but I cain’t see through walls. Couldn’t tell if you were jist takin’ care a’ business or if you were doin’ a bit of reconnaissance on your own. I didn’t want ta take that chance. So, I moved in. Sorry if it was kind of a shock.”

“Shock ain’t the word, partner.” Daring, he lifted Vin’s fingers to his lips and touched his tongue to the sensitive tips.

Vin’s eyes widened, darkened. “Don’t,” he said. “Y’ain’t making this any easier.” He slid his fingers from Chris’s clasp and wrapped them instead around his beer.

“What?” Chris asked, clearly puzzled.

Vin laughed softly under his breath. “Hell, Larabee. If ya don’t know, I ain’t gonna tell you.” He glanced over at the bar. “You gonna talk to the manager tonight?”

Chris shook his head. “Not with Salazar hanging around and just the two of us here. This is something I want Travis’s input on. He’s been interested in Benito for a while, now. Why don’t we just hang around here, have dinner and keep our eyes open?”

“You’re the boss.” And as quickly as that, Chris was put in his place. After they ordered and Thom brought them their food, they continued to talk easily, as if that kiss had never happened. But Chris still felt it in his bones, a low thrum of arousal like electricity singing through the wires.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 3

Chris didn’t have much opportunity to think on it and pretty much pushed it to the back of his mind, though there were times when he woke hard and aching in the middle of the night with no memory of the phantoms who had visited him in his dreams.

The next two weeks were taken up with trailing Benito Salazar and discovering that he was collecting from three bars other than the Brass Rail. One of them was a second gay nightclub. The team was ordered to stay away from undercover ops, Travis being more interested in following the chain of evidence. The third week, Chris was scheduled to fly to Quantico for a seminar.

He arrived at the office in the morning with a garment bag and when he left work at mid-day to catch his 4pm flight, he discovered that there was a suspicious pool of fluid under the Ram. Cursing, he called a tow truck to take it to the dealer’s for a check-up and trudged back up to the office. Vin was the only agent left at his desk and he looked up when Chris stormed through the door and threw his garment bag on Buck’s chair.

“You plannin’ on a second career as a baggage handler?” Vin asked, leaning back in his chair, his brow slanting in amusement.

“The Ram’s leaking ... something,” Chris snarled. “I need a ride to the airport.”

“Well, I reckon you got two choices, you c’n call a taxi, or if y’ask real nice, I’d be willin’ t’give you a lift.”

Chris looked at his watch, cursed. “Drive me to the airport.” He looked at the Texan, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Vin.” Again that lift of a brow. “Please.”

“Sure.” Tanner grinned and closed down his computer. He snagged the garment bag from the chair. “Let’s ride.”

Despite the bad springs, the rust, the wind that whistled through the ragtop and the stress of a traffic jam on the way to the airport, Chris found himself relaxing a bit. Vin drove confidently without being reckless and had slapped an Alan Jackson CD into the portable player that was the Jeep’s sound system. The in-dash tape player had long since disappeared. As he drove, Vin hummed softly along with the music. Neither he nor Chris said much beyond casual conversation and even that wound down as the miles passed.

As his tension level waned, Chris realized this was the first uninterrupted length of time he had spent with Vin since the night at the Brass Rail. He hadn’t noticed any particular change in the easy relationship they had developed since Tanner had joined the team; perhaps a bit of wariness on both their parts, but nothing to really throw them out of sync. Chris wondered if Vin ever thought about that night, or if he had set it aside, figuring Chris had decided to role-play with more enthusiasm than good judgment.

Chris drew a breath. “You been back to the Brass Rail since that night?” he asked.

“Ain’t my kind a’ place,” Vin said with a shrug, but Chris saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “B’sides, I figgered there warn’t no sense in muddling the investigation.”

“Good.”

“I ain’t stupid, Larabee.”

“Never said you were.” For the first time the silence seemed strained. Chris rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Fer what?”

“That night –”

“It’s over. Fergit it.”

*Have you?*

Vin swerved so suddenly that Chris thought he had spoken the question out loud; held his breath until he heard Vin mutter something obscene about idiots on cell phones. Still the question lingered. Had he forgotten? Chris hadn’t, but then it wasn’t every day that he kissed another man and came damn near to fucking him in public. If Vin had forgotten, then maybe it was for the best.

And if he hadn’t?

It wasn’t a question to be asked, or answered. Vin pulled off the freeway into the airport complex. He dropped Chris off at the curbside check-in, unloaded the garment bag and shook his hand, wishing him a safe trip. Chris watched him until the Jeep was a rapidly fading rusty blue spot in a long line of vehicles exiting the airport.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Quantico was muggy, hot. The air was so thick it hurt to breathe, and the cooling system seemed to be on the fritz in the classroom where Chris was leading a seminar for rookie FBI agents, briefing them on ATF jurisdictions. Boring but necessary in view of the growing threats to internal and external security. He looked out over the faces in the room and wondered if he’d ever been so damn young. He had been a rookie at the advanced age of thirty, due to his time in the SEALs; now here he was with a few silver hairs threading through the blond and a body that was beginning to rebel despite its superb conditioning.

He returned to his motel, turned the air conditioning on high and nearly fainted at the luxury of being able to inhale. He stripped off his shirt and let the cold air play over his body, shivering with pleasure. He called room service, expense be damned, and ordered dinner. By the time he showered and poured a drink from the bottle of bourbon he’d purchased the night before, he was feeling halfway to human again. Then he noticed the message light blinking on his phone.

He hated those damn lights. They brought back memories that he’d rather keep buried deep. Memories of being told he’d better catch the next flight home because Sarah and Adam had been in an accident. “Accident.” There had been nothing accidental about the car bombing that had killed them. Now, whenever he saw the message light he felt like vomiting. Reluctantly, he reached for the receiver and called to retrieve his message.

Buck’s voice. Four words. “Vin’s hurt. Call me.” Tense, without a hint of Buck’s usual humor. Chris, with dread heavy in his heart and stomach, punched in Buck’s cell phone number.

One ring. “Wilmington.”

“Buck, what’s going on?”

A heavy sigh. “Junior’s got himself in a world of trouble here.”

“How? What happened?”

“The owner of the Brass Rail finally caved. Vin volunteered to go in and baby-sit him while the rest of us set up surveillance. Salazar had a man inside we didn’t know about ... one of the cooks. He ... he must’ve had a gun hid there. Chris ... the owner’s dead. Vin got the shooter, but he took a couple a’ hits –”

“Tell me he was wearing a vest, Buck. Please.”

“He was wearing a vest. He’d be dead if he wasn’t. He bruised two ribs, but that vest don’t cover arms and legs. He got hit in the shoulder and leg, damn near bled out.”

“How is he?” Chris’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“He’s in ICU. He ... he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Chris, y’ought to get back here. The docs ain’t offering much hope.”

“Jesus. I’ll be on the next flight. Tell him – you tell him to hold on, Buck. I’ll be there.” He hung up, heard the rattle of the room service cart, and felt suddenly nauseous. He answered the knock and signed the tab, then called down to the desk and told them he’d be checking out. The aroma of food turned his stomach and he pushed the cart back outside the door, keeping only the cup of coffee and a dinner roll. He had to eat something even if he felt like it was going to come back up with every swallow.

The ride to the airport was a blur of lights. The disorientation of the rush through the terminal to the gate and the stomach-dropping sensation of takeoff left Chris exhausted, made him long for a drink, but he wouldn’t yield to the temptation. He needed to focus, to conserve his strength. Try to get some rest during the long flight. He asked the flight attendant for a bottle of water, drank it, then turned off the overhead light and willed himself to sleep.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

He called Buck once from the plane to give him the ETA. Vin was still holding on to life, still unconscious. Frustrated by his lack of control, by his inability to force the plane to fly faster, Chris was up and out of his seat before the seat belt warning went off, grabbing his bag from the overhead bin and apologizing to the attendants and fellow passengers for his haste. He would have pulled his badge if he thought it would help. He headed towards a taxi stand, and then heard a sharp whistle.

“Chris!” Buck’s voice rose over the canned music and the bustle. He pushed a path through the waiting crowd, clearing the way. He grabbed Chris’s bag. “C’mon. I figured it’d be easier to pick you up than try to get a taxi to the hospital.”

“Faster at any rate,” Chris grinned, knowing Buck’s driving skills. “How is he?”

“To look at him you wouldn’t think he’s got enough blood in him to spare, but the docs say he’s holding his own. Guarded optimism is the phrase they’re using now.”

Some of Chris’s tension eased up a bit. “That’s good.” He leaned his head back, pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he’d been fighting. “Why the hell is it whenever I leave town the shit hits the fan?”

“I hate t’tell you this, ol’ son. But the shit hits the fan whether or not you’re in town – just in case you haven’t noticed.” Buck opened the console. “Got some water in there and some ibuprofen.”

“Thanks.” Chris cracked the water open and took three painkillers. “I should have known,” he said.

Buck gave him a slightly cross-eyed look. “Yeah, like I always said, you’re a fuckin’ clairvoyant. How the hell could you have known? That one-brain thing you and Tanner got going?” Buck made a dismissive sound.

Chris opened his mouth to argue, angry that Buck would discount the intuition that had saved both their lives more than once, but Buck never had been a believer in more than good liquor, blind luck and true love.

True love ...

*No.* A silent argument. *But perhaps more than friendship.* He would concede that much to the strength of the bond he shared with Vin Tanner.

Then Buck was dropping him off at the hospital entrance before he parked the truck, and Chris loped up to the ICU to find Josiah and JD in the waiting room. “Where is he?” he demanded.

Josiah rose, put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. His eyes were dark with worry. “Oh God,” Chris groaned. “God ... Buck said --”

“Easy, Chris. When Buck left things were looking pretty good, but then Vin’s blood pressure started dropping and they had to take him back to surgery.” His grip firmed up as every vestige of color drained from Chris’s face and he guided him to a chair, sat him down, and crouched low. “Far as we know, he’s doin’ all right. What about you?“

Chris met Josiah’s study. “Blood,” he said in a choked voice. “He’s gonna need blood. We’re the same type.”

“You sure you’re up to giving it? You look mighty pale.”

“I’m fine.” Chris’s voice strengthened. “Where do I go?”

“I reckon that nurse at the station’ll tell you. C’mon.”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris made his way back to the waiting room and sank down in a chair. Giving blood hadn’t done anything for his exhaustion, but it made him feel more in control of circumstances that he otherwise had no control over. JD and Buck had gone to the cafeteria and Josiah was slouched in a doze, his occasional quiet snore breaking the silence.

Chris watched the minutes creep by on the clock. It seemed an eternity before a tired-looking young man in scrubs stood in the doorway. “You here for Vin Tanner?”

“How is he?” Chris jabbed Josiah, waking him.

“Stable. Finally. The first repair to the femoral artery ruptured. We were able to stop the bleeding and repair it again. Hopefully for good this time.” He shook his head. “I tell you, that’s one tough dude.”

“When can I see him?” Chris asked.

“He’ll be in recovery for a while. I think you ought to go home, get some rest, come back in the morning. He won’t be conscious any time soon.”

“Is he getting transfused?”

“Big time,” the doctor grinned. “But that should taper off now that we’ve got the bleeding under control.”

“I direct donated my blood. Will he be getting it?”

The doctor looked surprised. “Why?”

“Give it to him.” A smile softened his intensity. “It’s good blood, doc. Don’t worry.”

The doctor shrugged, not understanding. “I’m sure it is.” He left and Josiah’s hand came down on Chris’s shoulder. “You heard the man. You need a place to crash?”

“I’ll stay at Buck’s. Thanks, Josiah. I appreciate it.”

Josiah slanted a gray brow. “You ever notice that things go to hell around here whenever you’re out of town?”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris was back at the hospital by eight the next morning. He had fallen into bed, not expecting to do more than doze, and instead was sucked into a deep sleep that claimed him for six hours. He woke at seven, startled by the light coming through the blinds he hadn’t bothered to close the night before. It was Saturday, and neither Buck nor JD were stirring. Chris showered, dressed and left a note for Buck explaining that he had borrowed his truck. He left the keys to the Ram on the kitchen table along with the phone number of the dealer where it was being repaired. They could switch vehicles at the hospital.

Vin had been moved back to SICU from recovery. The nurse at the desk told Chris that he had regained consciousness during the night and if his blood pressure remained stable he could be moved into a regular room the next day. She smiled up at Chris. “He’s in number 5, just across the way so we can keep an eye on him.”

Chris thanked her and went into the small, glass-walled cubicle. He’d seen Vin in the hospital before; the sharpshooter was notoriously prone to injury, partly because of the normal risks of the job, partly because he tended to take those risks beyond the parameters of personal safety. But he’d never seen him this pale, this transparent. Blue veins traced the thin skin of his eyelids and temples; his lips were white, the dark crescents of his lashes were a stark contrast to the pallor of his complexion.

Chris looked up at the bag of blood hanging from the IV pump. His blood. It was an astonishingly intimate connection, like Chris’s life and will were being transfused into Tanner along with the life-giving fluid. Chris picked up Vin’s cool hand and held the long, lax fingers. For the second time, he raised them to his lips, then held them against his cheek, as if the heat of his skin could warm them. “Come on, partner. You can fight this. You’ve got my blood in you now. Can you feel it?” he whispered. “Nobody else can say that, not even Buck. There’s something going on here that I don’t understand, but I’m thinking I might like to ... to try to figure it out.”

The flutter of Vin’s fingertips against his cheek startled him, and he looked up, wondering if he’d really felt the motion or if he had willed it. “Vin?” he released Tanner’s hand and stroked the back of his knuckles down his cheek. “You wakin’ up? C’mon, you can do this. Just open your eyes.”

A pale pink tongue ran over dry lips, a quiver of dark lashes and then those blue, blue eyes opened; a bit blurry at first, then more focused. “Chris?” He frowned, blinked. “What’re ya doin’ here?”

It was like somebody had opened the blinds in a dark room letting in the sunlight. Chris smiled. “I gotta thank you for getting me out of that seminar early, but I wish it wasn’t ‘cause you damn near bled to death. Good thing I came back. You see that blood dripping down? That’s mine.”

Vin’s eyes tracked up the line of plastic, widened. “’S’at mean I’ll be straight?” he murmured, a flash of a teasing glint in his eyes.

Chris laughed. “I sure as hell hope not.” He lifted Vin’s fingers to his lips, kissed them gently. “You and me have some talkin’ to do once you’re out of here.”

“Must be the drugs ... I don’t understand ... ” He sounded confused, slightly panicked. He tried to tug his fingers away, but Chris just held on tighter. Wasn’t much of a contest with Vin as weak as he was.

“That’s okay, partner. Neither do I.” He brushed the hair back from Vin’s forehead. “But I reckon we’ll work it out. You just concentrate on getting out of here and let me do the worrying.”

Vin’s strength was just about played out. His eyes closed, but his fingers nestled into Chris’s palm, trusting to the clasp of his hand. “You stayin’?” he breathed as he drifted off.

“I’m staying.”

The nurse came in with another bag of blood. If she found anything objectionable in Chris holding Vin’s hand, she didn’t show it. She started the IV, watching the ruby stream flow down the tubing. She took Vin’s vital signs and smiled at Chris. “I think this is more of your blood. It must be good stuff. He’s doing very well.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from if he needs it.”

“You know, I don’t think he will.” She glanced at his chart. “But save it for the next time.”

Chris shook his head. “Sounds like he’s got a reputation around here.”

“Don’t you all?” she teased. “My name’s Jean, if he needs anything. Or if you need anything.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” She looked at him. “I’ll bet you take it black.”

“You are good.”

She arched a brow at him. “And wouldn’t you like to find out?”

“Yeah, but something tells me the guy who put that ring on your finger wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

“Damn!” she said in mock chagrin. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” She winked at him over her shoulder as she went to get the coffee.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 4

Vin was in the hospital for the week, growing progressively stronger, which also meant he was growing progressively more jittery and anxious for his release. Chris arrived Friday morning to find him hobbling down the corridor with a heavy-set, gray-haired nurse in hot pursuit.

“Mr. Tanner!” she gasped and stopped, one hand on her breast, the other holding a plastic cup with a pill in it.

“You want me to catch him for you?” Chris asked, grinning.

“Honey, if you can catch him, you c’n have him. I’m getting too old for this.” Her round face was shiny with perspiration.

Chris bent towards her. “You know what? So am I.” He plucked the pill from her hand.

*”If you can catch him, you can have him.”* It should be that simple. He set off after Vin.

It didn’t take long. The hall was short, Vin was tiring and Chris’s legs were fresh. He came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Vin gasped, spun, and promptly lost his balance, pitching into Chris’s arms before he could catch himself.

Hospital food never did agree with Vin. The slightness of his frame startled Chris as he steadied him with gentle hands. “Whoa, there, partner. Where’s the fire? You’re about to give your poor nurse heart failure.”

“Well, she’s about t’drive me right up th’wall. Take my temp, take my BP, take my blood. Hell, I thought I’s supposed to make more blood, not give it all back to ‘em. “’Tween her an’ the docs, I ain’t got a vein that ain’t been punctured or a part a’ me that ain’t been poked. I’m jist sick of it!” He was breathless, his heart beating so hard and fast that Chris could see the front of his hospital gown shivering with it.

“Easy, Vin. C’mon, let’s get back to your room.” He slid his arm around Tanner’s waist and liked the feel of those narrow, hard muscles under his hand. Vin leaned into him, fitting easily against his body and giving Chris a hot jolt of arousal. But he was there to give support, not cop a feel and he felt a bit guilty for finding pleasure in it. Not enough to make him pull away, though. Having set on a course, he was determined to see it to the end.

He’d spent a lot of the last few days thinking about his life, about his expectations, about what was already between him and Vin, and what could be between them if they would give it a chance. If *he* could give it a chance. This was risk-taking on a whole new level for Chris – secure in his sexuality – but with emotions and yearnings that were taking him in a direction that he’d never considered. Every damn time he looked at Vin, he ached. Body and soul.

He had no idea if Vin felt anything for him beyond that astonishing link that had been there from the very beginning. He couldn’t make assumptions that just because Vin was gay, he wanted a relationship with him. That searing kiss in the Brass Rail had been fueled by too much adrenaline and tension to be counted at more than face value. And there had been nothing since, not even a unguarded glance to tell him otherwise.

Seeing Vin in that hospital bed, bled out and white as the sheets he lay on, had shaken Chris to the core of his being. He had already lost one love and one future; he wasn’t about to lose another to this tight-wire life they both led. At least not without taking the risk of finding out if Vin felt the same. But he wouldn’t take that risk until Vin was out of the hospital and healed.

They got back to Vin’s room and Chris helped him settle on the bed. “So, when will they let you out of here?”

“Don’t know. They ain’t sayin’. The doc is comin’ around ten.”

“The ‘doc’ is here.” A trim, bearded man strode into the room. “Feeling better? I understand you’ve been running Nurse Ratchet out there off her feet.”

Vin blushed. “Hell, doc. Sally ain’t so bad, but ever’ time she comes in here, she’s got a needle in her hand.”

“That’s her job, Mr. Tanner. Needless to say she’ll give a sigh of relief when you’re discharged.” He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Vin’s heart and lungs. “Good. Swing your legs up and let me take a look.” He poked and prodded, made Vin’s bite back a few curses, then straightened up, seeming pleased. “Very good.”

“So when can I git outta here?”

“Today. If you follow a few simple directions. First of all, you’re still anemic, you’ll have to build up that blood. You’ll have iron pills to take and a diet to follow, though I don’t think you’ll mind the red meat, eh?”

“I c’n do that, doc.”

“That vein of yours is still fragile. I want you off that leg as much as possible for the next two weeks, at least. Then back here for tests so we can be sure the damage is healed before you get back to speed. No stairs for a week.”

“A week?” Vin sounded crestfallen and unhappy.

“Is that a problem?”

Chris spoke up for the first time. “He lives on the fourth floor of a building with an elevator that works only twenty-percent of the time.” Vin shot him a look that labeled him a traitor. “But if he’s willing, I’ve got a ranch with one floor and plenty of room.”

Dr. Hilliard nodded. “That would work.”

“Y’all c’n stop talkin’ like I ain’t in the room,” Vin groused.

“The offer’s open,” Chris said, moving away from the window to stand at the foot of the bed. “Just say the word.” He was pretty sure the word would be “yes.” Vin looked like he would have signed away his immortal soul rather than spend another night under the tender ministrations of Nurse Sally.

“Sure. I’ll come out to the ranch fer a week, if ya don’t mind.” He risked a glance at Hilliard.

“Then I’ll sign your discharge orders. Just make sure you follow those orders unless you want to end up back here. You understand?”

“Yeah, I sure do. Thanks, doc.” Hilliard left the room in a flutter of white lab coat, and Vin gave Chris a sheepish look. “Ya don’t hafta --”

“Yeah, I do,” Chris said quietly. “You’ve got my blood in you now and I’m protecting my investment.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“The clothes I brought you yesterday are in the closet. You get dressed and I’ll get the discharge orders and we’ll spring you, okay?”

“Sure.” But he didn’t move. “Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“When ya came back from Quantico ...” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Must’ve been my imagination.”

Chris smiled. “You never know,” and left to get the papers.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Vin’s protestations that he was fine lasted until he crashed on the sofa in Chris’s den. Chris came in from feeding the horses and livestock to find him sound asleep, one hand clutching the TV remote, the other still hooked through the handle of an empty mug. Chris disengaged the mug, gently tugged the remote from his fingers and turned off the TV. Vin sighed and burrowed a bit more deeply into the pillow supporting him.

God. He looked so young ... Chris flicked a wave of chestnut hair from Vin’s forehead, drew his fingers down the lean plane of his cheek. Still too pale, but at ease here, as he hadn’t been in the hospital where he had seen tension in the set of his mouth, in the lines of his body. Chris recalled his hands fisted in his blankets, taut even in sleep. Now they curved loosely, open and vulnerable.

Even without the new focus Chris had on his relationship with Vin, he would have been moved by the trust and ease the wary Texan obviously felt in his company. He had known early on that Vin’s life had been filled with hardship from the few clues he had let fall – from his orphaned youth to his admission of his sexual preferences – nothing had come easily, not even things most folks take for granted. Even his ability to read and write had been a hard fought victory over dyslexia.

Chris shook his head in wonder. Vin was the last person who would use the word extraordinary to describe himself. And if Chris ever used it, Tanner would just give him that half-smile and shake his head in denial. Chris wanted nothing more than to show him that he was, in ways that didn’t demand words, and that a physical relationship could be as rich and vibrant as the soul-deep bond they already shared. It was a tall task, and not one that Chris knew how to tackle.

He had a week. One week before Vin would return to Purgatorio and perhaps put more than physical distance between them.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7  
He was still sitting there an hour later. The late afternoon sun was pouring through the open doors leading to the deck. Chris watched the band of light creep across Vin’s face; gilding the stubble on his jaw and turning his pale skin the color of honey. The bar of light touched his eyelids and Vin, still sleeping, squinted and tried to turn away from the invading sun. Chris got up and pulled the loosely woven drapes across the doors, blocking the worst of the glare.

Vin yawned, stretched, grimaced. He blinked at Chris haloed by light. “Lar’bee?”

“Remember you’re at the ranch?”

Vin sat up, thrust his fingers through his tangled hair. “Yeah. Ya might be s’prised at what I remember.” His mouth quirked in an enigmatic half-smile. He reached for the cane resting on the floor at his feet. “Think I’m gonna clean up.”

“I put your things in the master bedroom.”

“Aw hell, Chris. Ya don’t hafta give up yer room ...”

“Listen, Vin. You’re supposed to stay off your feet as much as possible for a few days. The bathroom is right there, not down a long hallway. It’s just easier, that’s all.”

Vin blushed. “Thanks.” He braced himself, stood up and limped down the hall to the bedroom. Chris watched him, wondering what Vin meant -- that Chris’d be surprised what he remembered? And how many different ways could Tanner find to drive him crazy? He headed towards the kitchen to fix some rare steaks and spinach salad for dinner. If Tanner needed iron in his blood, Chris would make sure he’d get it.

They ate, Vin fidgeting under Chris’s scrutiny, but polishing off his meal with good appetite. After, they sat in the den, Vin watching TV, Chris at his desk working on several reports that he had neglected over the last week. He didn’t even notice the passing time, only that his eyes burned and his shoulders ached from the tension of being hunched over his laptop. He logged off, closed the screen and groaned. He didn’t have the strength to get out of his chair.

He heard the soft drag of halting steps behind him, then two warm hands set on his shoulders and strong fingers massaged the knots from his neck, shoulders and spine. Thumbs pressed into the nape of his neck, worked their way to the base of his skull. He groaned again, this time in relief and pleasure.

Vin bent close, his breath soft on Chris’s hair and cheek. “That better?”

Chris swiveled his chair to face Vin, wrapped his arms around Tanner’s waist and with a sound that was caught between a sigh and a sob, buried his face against the firm muscles of his abdomen. He felt Vin stroking his hair, sifting the strands through his fingers. His pulse was throbbing beneath Chris’s cheek, and he smelled of fresh laundry, soap, and warm skin. “Oh, God, Vin ...” he breathed, overwhelmed by the emotions he’d been fighting for so long.

“Chris, yer gonna have t’come up, ‘cause I cain’t get down there,” Vin said.

He did, rising and keeping his arms wrapped around Tanner’s body. They were nearly the same height, Vin only an inch or so shorter, so that he had only to tilt his head slightly to meet Chris’s eyes.

“Is there somethin’ we need t’talk about?” he asked.

Chris threaded his fingers through the waves of Vin’s hair. “Yeah, but not right this instant. Right now, I need to do this ...” he bent his head and kissed Vin. This time, there was no hesitation, no pretense. Just the press of lips, the soft glide of tongues as the kiss deepened, the sudden, sweet shock of mutual arousal and consent.

The cane fell to the floor and Vin leaned against him. Chris tightened his hold, supporting him, guarding him from putting weight on the leg that shouldn’t bear it. Reluctantly, he broke from the kiss. “C’mon, Tanner. Let’s get you off your feet.”

Vin gave him one of those grins. “Yer jist lookin’ fer an excuse t’git me horizontal.”

“I’m just trying to get you horizontal before you fall on your sorry ass,” Chris quipped gently. “I got something to say and I sure as hell don’t want to say it in a hospital.” He maneuvered Vin over to the couch and helped him settle there comfortably. He would have sat with him, but he didn’t trust the way his blood was singing through his veins, or the way his cock was already half way to hard. So, he sat instead on one of the recliners and leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees. He considered his words, looked at Vin, who was watching him with an amused but wary look.

“What *do* you remember, Vin? You said I’d be surprised.”

Color rose in Vin’s cheeks. “I ‘member you sittin’ with me, holdin’ my hand. And sayin’ we got something to clear up between us when I got out.”

“Yeah, I said something like that.” Chris met that blue gaze without wavering. “Vin, I had a lot of time to think sitting at your bedside, waitin’ for you to wake up. I thought a lot about that night in the Brass Rail, and how I really wasn’t role-playing when we got back to the booth. I *wanted* more that night. And I still do. Just in case you haven’t noticed.” He tried to smile, but his lips were set and serious.

Vin shook his head. “Chris, I ain’t the smartest feller, but I’ve been around enough t’know that there’s times when straights get a curiosity about bein’ gay and figure they might try swingin’ that way fer a bit t’see if they like it. But they always go back t’straight. If y’ain’t bent or bi, that’s the way it is. I ain’t up fer those games –“

“This isn’t a game for me, Vin!” Chris rose, paced. “God, if you knew the things that were racing through my mind that night ...”

“I reckon I knew,” Vin sighed. “Ya think those same thoughts wasn’t racin’ through mine?”

Chris stopped short in his pacing, stared at Vin. “You pulled away from me. You said I wasn’t making it any easier for you. When I asked why, you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Jesus, Larabee. Fer a feller with more smarts than anybody else I know, ya sure ain’t got a clue, do ya?” He shook his head. “I knew ya weren’t thinkin’ too clearly, figured you were all caught up in the mood and what we were playin’ at. But it warn’t playin’ fer me, Chris.” Long lashes shielded his expression. “I’s afraid ya’d see it and regret it, and the one thing I wanted t’take away from that night warn’t regret.”

“Vin...?” Chris’s voice was low, hesitant.

“I been wantin’ ya since I first saw ya, Chris. I jist never wanted ya t’know it. Thought if ya did, I’d be outta there so fast m’head would spin. This ... this is the first place I felt like I b’longed in a long time, with you an’ the others. I’s willin’ t’give up a lot jist t’stay here. I jist never thought it’d be m’heart.”

Chris’s breath was strangling in his throat. “You don’t have to give anything up, Vin. Don’t you know that?” He crossed over to the couch, took Tanner’s hand in his. “You don’t have to give up a single thing except the idea that I don’t want you just as much as you want me. ‘Cause it seems to me that I do.”

Vin’s eyes were deep blue, serious. “You gotta think about this, Chris. This ain’t about bein’ fuck buddies jist t’satisfy an itch. Nobody gives a shit about who I sleep with, might be diff’rent fer somebody with a future like you got. Man like you might need a wife –”

Chris’s grip tightened cruelly. “I *had* a wife. I *had* a family, and they died!”

“I ain’t a replacement, Larabee. Git that outta yer mind right now!”

Chris drew a shaky breath and spoke in a low, fierce voice. “You don’t talk to me about replacing things. I’ve replaced my whole goddamn life! But you don’t replace love. You can’t. *I* can’t. Love finds you, and it takes you by the heart and by the throat and it don’t give a damn what body it’s in, or if it’s right or wrong to anybody else. When I watched my blood goin’ into you, I wanted you to know it was my soul, too. Because that’s what it felt like to me.”

Vin looked stunned by that outpouring of words. His hands trembled in Chris’s. “Ain’t nobody ever cared about me like that ‘cept maybe my ma.” He swallowed, seemed a bit ashamed, as if that emotionally deprived existence had been his fault.

Chris smiled, because if he didn’t he’d be in tears. “Umm, partner. My feelings ain’t exactly maternal here.”

Vin’s color rose again as he took in Chris’s meaning. “Aw hell,” he sighed. “Yer gittin’ me all confused, Larabee.”

“I can think of a few ways to clarify my meaning.” Chris’s brow slanted and he lifted Tanner’s chin and kissed him. Eventually, Chris was sitting on the couch with Vin stretched out crosswise across his lap and the sharpshooter’s head nestled against his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around Tanner’s body and Vin’s hands were clasped around Chris’s as if there weren’t enough points of contact between them already.

As he sat with his cheek against Vin’s soft hair and the slim body resting in his arms, Chris realized that it had been a long time since he had felt such peace, such completeness. His heart ached, but it was the ache of healing, not breaking.

“Fer a feller who had so much t’talk about, yer mighty quiet, Larabee.” Vin tipped his head to look up at him.

Chris smiled. “From a feller who doesn’t say more than three words in a day that’s a fine observation.”

Vin shifted slightly. “Ya gotta have some questions y’ain’t askin’.”

“Maybe.” His lips brushed against Vin’s hair. “But it’s late, and you need to get your body off to bed – to sleep,” he added when Vin’s brows arched in amusement. “And I mean *sleep.*”

“Y’ain’t no fun,” Vin teased, running a finger along Chris’s jaw.

“And *you* ain’t in any shape to find out how much fun I can be,” Chris quipped, his heart beating a bit faster at the idea that Vin was willing to be his lover. He took a deep breath to counter that surge of blood. “C’mon, partner. Time for sleep.”

“Yeah,” Vin admitted. “I reckon I’m pretty beat.” But he pulled Chris down for a kiss, sweet and hard, that didn’t do anything to slow down Chris’s heart rate. He cautiously swung his legs off the couch, looked for his cane and saw it lying on the floor by Chris’s desk. “You mind gettin’ that stick fer me?” he asked.

“Why don’t we try this?” Chris stood up and held out his hands. “You hang on to me. I’m strong enough for the both of us.” He pulled Vin to his feet, wrapped his arm around his waist and together they made their way to the master bedroom. Once inside, Chris lowered him to the bed. “You want some help?” His throat was so tight he nearly didn’t get the words out.

Vin slanted him a glance, half-amused, half-dubious, as if he weren’t quite certain this was the best idea Chris had ever had. “If ya don’t mind.”

“God, no.” He knelt before Vin, unbuttoned his shirt and slid it from his body, then pulled the gray t-shirt from his jeans and lifted it over his head. Still kneeling between Vin’s legs, he looked up at him. He set his hands lightly on Vin’s shoulders. His skin was pale and slightly freckled, warm; smooth as satin stretched over his bones and muscles. There was a white band of gauze still covering the superficial gunshot wound on his bicep. Chris leaned in and scented him, looked into Tanner’s deep blue eyes and smiled. He couldn’t know that his own eyes were wide and soft, or that his mouth was tender, his cheeks flushed.

He trailed his hands down Vin’s shoulders, stroked down his arms, then rested them on his thighs for a moment as if waiting for Vin to tell him to stop. When Vin didn’t, he unbuckled his belt, opened the rivet on his jeans. Vin raised himself up enough for Chris to unzip the fly and tug them carefully down his legs. Chris eased them off, stripped off his socks. His hands, usually so sure, were trembling slightly. He was hard, aroused. He leaned back on his heels. “Vin, maybe I should stop this right here.”

Vin laughed softly and shook his head. “Larabee, I ain’t no virgin and it ain’t like ya gotta romance me ‘r nuthin’. If we was at the gym and I’s strippin’ down, ya wouldn’t give a damn ‘bout seein’ me naked.” He set his own hands on the waist of his boxers and pulled them off. “See, ain’t nothin’ there y’ain’t seen on any other feller.”

Chris laughed then, even though the sight of Vin naked and unashamed was arousing enough to make him want to strip down and jerk himself off right there. “You’re wrong, partner. I think I would give a damn about seein’ you naked.” But the tension was gone and he allowed himself the luxury of looking. “Damn, you’re somethin’ else.”

Tanner blushed and Chris ran his eyes down his lean chest, his flat stomach, to the dark curls at his groin and the flushed cock rising there. He lifted a brow. “Seems like I ain’t the only one thinkin’ that this ain’t like bein’ in the gym.”

“Strip off, Chris,” Vin said hoarsely.

As appealing as that thought was, Chris didn’t think it was such a good idea, not if his goal was to get Vin healed up. He stood, stepped back from the bed. “I think we’d better get you settled.” He reached for the robe Vin had laid out on the chair. “C’mon. I’ll help you to the bathroom, but once you’re in there, you’re on your own.”

“Yer a damn tease.”

Chris slid the robe over Vin’s shoulders. “Nope. Just bein’ sensible. Seems like one of us has to be.” He helped Vin over to the bathroom, then closed the door. He took his time cleaning up the kitchen and locking the house down for the night. He needed to give his arousal time to fade, though the image of his lover – God, his *lover* -- was vivid enough to give him a hard-on at the very thought.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Vin was under the covers, one bare shoulder and arm exposed. “Goodnight, partner,” he said softly and propped Vin’s cane against the nightstand.

“I ain’t sleepin’ yet.” Vin turned to face him. “Chris, stay with me?” he asked.

“Vin ...”

“Jist sleep with me, okay? Nothin’ else.”

He couldn’t refuse. “All right.” He went into the bathroom, used the toilet, brushed his teeth. He returned to the bedroom, his shirt balled up in his hand. He dropped it in the hamper, unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans and briefs. He heard the soft hiss of Vin’s breath and decided it was only fair to let him take a look. He cast an amused glance at Tanner. “Just like the gym, remember?”

“Yeah,” Vin’s whisper was a squeak and Chris turned away, smiling. He pulled a pair of sweatpants out of the drawer and put them on. Looking was one thing, sleeping naked all night next to Vin was entirely something else. He slid under the covers and was relieved that Vin was wearing sweatpants as well. Seemed he hadn’t lost all common sense ...

But they were both bare above the waist, and the warmth of skin on skin, hard muscle against hard muscle was just about as erotic as anything Chris had felt in a long time. He turned on his side and Vin yawned, moved closer. He smiled drowsily and ran a light hand down Chris’s arm. “Ya feel real good, cowboy.”

Chris groaned. “Go to sleep, Vin.”

“Think you’ll burst inta flames if ya kiss me?”

Chris thought he might, but he yielded; kissed Vin softly, felt his lips rimmed by Vin’s tongue and jabbed a thumb into his ribs.

“Hey! What’s that fer?”

“Behave.”

“Fuck you,” Vin grumbled.

“Not tonight,” Chris said grimly. But he pulled Vin into the hollow of his body and curved his own around the Texan’s lean frame. “Goodnight, Vin,” he whispered.

“G’night, Chris.” A sigh that sounded weary, happy, content. Which pretty much summed up how he felt, as well.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 5

That contentment lasted through to the next morning; pervasive even through the lingering shrouds of sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, dazzled a bit by the light. Light. *Shit.* He shot upright, more than slightly disoriented. How long had he slept? He squinted at the clock. Saturday, 8am, the digital read-out told him.

Saturday ... he fell back on the pillow. Something else was different ...

A warm body stretched out next to his. Loose curls of chestnut hair veiled what little of his face wasn’t buried in the pillow.

Vin ...

Chris inhaled the musky, warm scent of sleep and man. He could have gotten up, made breakfast, checked on the horses. But he was unwilling to leave this bed, this man. And figuring as long as he stayed quiet Vin would rest, he closed his eyes and dozed.

He was drawn awake by a touch. A slow, warm trail down the center of his chest, a lazy circling of his nipple, drawing it to a taut peak, a brush of hair and warm breath against his skin. He opened his eyes and met Vin’s, just inches from his. Tanner was smiling, his lips pursed slightly as he continued that gentle, focused exploration of Chris’s body.

“Mornin’,” Vin whispered. “Thought ya wasn’t ever gonna wake up, cowboy.”

Chris cupped the back of Vin’s head and drew him closer. Their lips were scarcely touching. “Don’t call me cowboy.” The words were the merest ghost of breath.

Vin smiled. “Whatcha gonna do? Shoot me?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Yer thinkin’ too much again, Lar’bee.” He closed the scant inch between their lips, and Chris yielded, caught just enough off-guard to summon any resistance. Vin was exploring his mouth with leisurely thoroughness, like a man would savor fine wine; unhurried, appreciative. And Chris was powerless to stop him. A warm, honeyed buzz of arousal flowed through him. He embraced Vin and felt the smooth skin of his back like warm satin against his inner arms. Vin’s fingers were tugging at his nipple, flicking lightly across the nub and sending small, pleasurable shocks zinging through his nerves.

He insinuated himself between Chris’s legs, rubbed against the hard rise of his cock. Chris pulled away suddenly, his grip tight on Vin’s shoulders. His heart was pounding, he couldn’t seem to draw any breath. “Vin! Stop!”

Vin’s eyes were blurry, dilated with desire. He was breathing as hard as Chris, his heartbeat shivering against Chris’s chest. “Don’t stop me, Chris ... please, let me love ya.”

“Jesus, Vin!” Chris gently forced him back. “You’re not up to this –”

Weakened and pale, Vin still managed to look wolfish and fierce. He forced Chris’s hand down to his groin, to the swollen cock beneath his fleece sweatpants. “Oh ... I’m up for it.”

“Damnit, Tanner! You are *not* going to bust open that artery and hemorrhage to death in my bed. So, just stop it.”

Vin just continued to look at him with those hot blue eyes until Chris realized his hand was still pressed to Tanner’s erection. He moaned and pulled his hand away. “You’re gonna kill me, ya know that, partner?”

“I c’n promise we’ll both die happy.”

“I’d rather we both live happy, Vin.” His voice softened and he gazed down at the Texan. Tanner’s respiration had returned to a more normal pace and the hectic flush was fading from his cheeks. Chris allowed himself the luxury of trailing kisses across Vin’s forehead, his eyelids, down to his mouth. “Give yourself time to heal up. I ain’t going anywhere. B’sides, this is all pretty new t’me. Might take some time for me, too.”

Vin sighed. He tugged Chris down for a kiss. “Guess it won’t hurt t’take it slow.”

Chris’s mouth twitched. “It’ll hurt plenty, pard. But if I can wait it out, so can you.” He brushed Vin’s hair from his cheek. “We’ve got time.”

Vin shook his head slightly. “I reckon I’s jist afraid –”

Chris’s brows drew together. “Afraid of what?”

“Afraid ya’d change yer mind ‘bout what ya wanted from me.”

Those words dropped the bottom out of Chris’s stomach. He swallowed the quick rise of anger, stifled the hurt those words caused because he knew their source wasn’t a criticism of him, but a reflection of Vin’s doubts and fears. “Vin ... I don’t want anything from you.”

Vin looked like he’d been kicked, suddenly pale again. “But –”

Chris laid a finger against Vin’s lips. “I don’t want anything *from* you,” he repeated. “I just want *you.*”

“Jesus,” Vin breathed. His eyes were wide, wondering.

“What?”

Vin blushed. “Ya mind sayin’ that again?”

“I just want *you,*” Chris said, smiling. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

Vin laughed, his arms over his head, young and carefree, unshadowed. “Yer the first, Chris. Ain’t nobody ever said that t’me.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He sat up stretched, combed his fingers through his hair. “Anybody ever bring ya breakfast in bed?”

“Shit, Chris. I jist got outta th’hospital. I been eatin’ breakfast in bed fer the last week.”

Chris grinned. “Not like this, you haven’t.” He got out of bed. “You. Stay put.”

“Ya might wanta rethink that, pard.” He reached for his cane. “Least ‘til I finish up in the bathroom.” Chris swatted his ankle and went to scare up the promised breakfast.

He made spinach and mushroom omelets with enough cheese and butter so Vin couldn’t complain about the positive nutritional content. Fresh orange juice, strawberries, and coffee with sugar and cream. He was determined to put weight on Tanner’s thin frame and build up his stamina. He had plans and they didn’t include Vin passing out when they made love.

That thought made Chris pause for a moment. Making love. He hadn’t lied when he said he needed time – no matter how his body responded to Vin – he needed to adjust to the reality of it. Time to think out the complications of being with another man. And not just any man – his subordinate, his teammate, his friend. He didn’t doubt, however, that they would work it out. There were some things that were just meant to be.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

True to Chris’s resolve and contrary to Vin’s wishes, they kept things between them at a low simmer for a week. At the end of the week, following a positive report from the vascular surgeon, Vin was permitted to discard the cane and resume “moderate” physical activity. Chris was fairly certain that moderation didn’t include rough sex.

During the ride back to the ranch, Vin kept sliding glances over at Chris, which he tried to ignore. “What?” he finally asked, irritated by the speculation.

“I’m healin’ up pretty good, Chris.”

“Seems like.” A bit tersely.

“Think ya can see yer way clear t’not treatin’ me like I’m gonna break in two if ya touch me?”

Chris focused on the traffic, trying not to imagine what this new level of intimacy meant. “Umm, think this conversation can wait ‘til we get back to the ranch?”

Vin sighed. “S’been waitin’ fer a while.” When Chris declined to answer, he closed his eyes and tucked himself into the angle formed by the seat and the door. Chris didn’t know how he managed to fit his body comfortably into that rigid space, but it was his preferred posture when riding in the Ram.

Back home, Chris went to the kitchen to figure out how much iron he could pack into a decent meal before Vin rebelled. He finally decided that burgers, fries, and the ubiquitous spinach salad would do the trick – a combination of junk food which Vin had been missing and common sense.

Vin came into the kitchen. “Why don’t you let me do the burgers while you take care of the chores?” he suggested, a bit diffidently. “I gotta start doin’ somethin’ b’fore I go stir-crazy.”

Chris nodded. “Sounds good to me. It’ll take me about half an hour.” Vin nodded, distracted, and Chris cursed whatever it was inside himself that was putting this distance between them. It only took twenty minutes to do the actual work. Chris sat down on a hay bale in the barn and leaned back against the wall. *What the hell was wrong with him?*

It was a pretty big question. He wanted Vin. His body left no doubt of that; waking hard and aching, driven to find relief at his own hand rather than push Vin past the limits of his recovery. Even now, thinking of it, his cock filled with blood.

Angry, needing that release, he opened his jeans, pulled his erection from his briefs, took himself in hand. He closed his eyes, tried to imagine what it would be like to have Vin touching him.

*God.*

He was so lost in the sound of his heartbeat that he didn’t hear the soft rustle of straw before his wrist was caught in a firm grip. He cried out, only to be silenced by the press of Vin’s lips to his, the invasion of his mouth by a deep, heart-stopping kiss. Vin shoved his hands under Chris’s t-shirt, found the sensitive flesh of his nipples with his thumbs and then his tongue. He suckled on them and Chris’s hips bucked involuntarily. He set his hands on either side of Vin’s head, as if to push him away, and instead held him close, lost in the ravishing assault on his body.

Tanner’s warm hands went to his waist, shoving the tight jeans and briefs from his hips, down his legs. His breath heated, then cooled Chris’s skin. Chris dug his fingers into the straw. He nearly screamed when Vin’s tongue ran the length of his shaft, and he sobbed when that same tongue lapped at the weeping slit; delicate and teasing, utterly devastating.

Then Vin took him into his mouth and he thought he would die. Tanner worked him; tongue, teeth, throat. Chris lost himself, lost the last little bit of sense that whispered to him to stop before it was too late, and then it was too late. His orgasm tore through him and he came in Vin’s mouth.

When the dark tide receded and he opened his eyes, Vin was still kneeling between his legs. He raised up and kissed Chris with lips that were cool and tasted of sex. He sat back on his haunches and arched a brow. “I ain’t dead on the floor and you ain’t a virgin no more,” he said, his voice a caressing rasp of a whisper. “Think we can move on now?”

Chris shivered, realized he was half-naked, sprawled wide and exposed to Vin’s gaze. A flutter of arousal that didn’t have anyplace to go worked its way down his spine. He sat up, reached out to bring Vin close. “Yeah, I think we can,” he said. “Later.” He stood, held out his arm for Vin and pulled him upright. He tugged his jeans back up, enjoying the flicker of blue heat he saw in Tanner’s eyes. “First, I need to replenish my strength,” he joked.

Vin appraised him, his head cocked slightly to one side. “I’m countin’ on it, Larabee. I reckon y’owe me,” he grinned. “And I’m aimin’ t’make ya pay up.”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chris put the last of the supper dishes in the dishwasher, took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and went into the den. Vin was taking a shower, grateful for the go-ahead from the surgeon. The reddish glow from the setting sun lit the room and a light breeze filtered through the drapes. It would be too chilly for Tanner, still down some red blood cells and vulnerable to cold even when he wasn’t. Damn thin-blooded Texan, Chris shook his head in wonder as he closed the sliding door, but kept the draperies open so they could watch the sun set behind the mountains. He looked out over his land; the barn, the rolling acreage, the blue rise of mountains. He and Sarah had invested a lot in the ranch; both of their inheritances from their parents plus the savings they had painfully accumulated over the course of their marriage, not to mention the years of sweat-equity Chris had put into the place. It was worth it, every penny and every drop of sweat. They had bought it as much for Adam and the other children they had planned on having as for themselves. Chris had never thought he’d be here alone. But then he was.

And, now, he wasn’t.

“Cowboy?” Vin’s soft voice drew him back from his musings. He turned away from the view to find another sight even more beguiling. His breath left him in a sigh. Tanner wore a bathrobe and not much else Chris was willing to bet. His hair was a mass of damp waves and his eyes were as deep and blue as the twilight sky beyond the mountains. He held out his hand and Chris left the window and took it in his own. He pulled Vin close for a kiss. He thought of that night at the Brass Rail, how he had been tempted to lick his throat, taste him. This time he yielded to the temptation. Vin shuddered in his arms, pressed so close that Chris felt his erection push into his hip. His own cock was hard again and he couldn’t suppress a soft groan at the growing heat between their bodies.

He set his hands on Vin’s shoulders and guided him to the couch. “Lie down,” he whispered. Vin offered no resistance. He sank down and pulled at the tie on his robe. Chris shoved it open, needing to see and feel every part of his lover. He ran his hands down Vin’s chest, fingered the velvety brown nipples as they hardened and peaked. His muscles were hard, sculpted. His body was lean and graceful; his shoulders surprisingly broad, his torso tapering down to a narrow waist and slim hips. His legs were long and strong. Chris feasted on the sight before his eyes were drawn back to the flushed flag of Vin’s erection where it rose from the dusky curls of hair. He licked his dry lips, reached out a finger and touched it to the bead of semen that was gathering on the tip. He smeared it over Vin’s cock, making him gasp, then licked his fingers, curious to know the taste.

Musky, bitter, but also salty-sweet, a heady mix of flavors that left him hungry for more. Was that how he had tasted to Vin? He looked into Tanner’s eyes. They caught and held the last reddish glow of the setting sun; the small points of light like flames flickering in the blue depths. Chris braced himself between Vin’s legs and bent his head. He breathed in the scent of semen and warm skin, then took Tanner’s cock in his mouth.

He had never done this. Never made love to another man, but he knew what gave him pleasure and he knew what Vin had done in the barn that had so overwhelmed him. He used those same skills to bring Vin to the brink of total surrender. He just didn’t know if he could take him over the edge ...

“Chris ... Chris –”

Vin’s fingers tugged at his hair. He gasped, reluctantly raised his head, wondering if he was making a damn fool of himself. Vin’s body was lightly filmed with sweat, his face flushed. He didn’t look like Chris was doing anything wrong. “What?” Chris asked hoarsely.

“I want t’feel you,” Vin said.

Chris stood up. He pulled his shirt over his head, unzipped his jeans and stripped them down along with his briefs. He stood at the side of the couch. Vin sat up, shrugged the robe from his shoulders, then lay down and opened his arms, waiting for Chris.

Carefully, he settled his body over Vin’s and nearly came at the pleasure of skin against skin, warm length against warm length, the press of Vin’s erection into his pelvis. Chris raised up and aligned his cock next to Tanner’s. He slowly rocked, bringing them together. The crisp hair, the heat, hardness and moisture of their sexes trapped between their bodies, the rub of hard flesh; Chris felt the slow burn of orgasm rising in his thighs and back. “Vin -- I can’t hold out,” he gasped.

“Give in, then,” Vin rasped. “Give in, give up. C’mon, cowboy. Jist touch me ...”

Chris slid his hand between their bodies, closed his fist around Vin’s cock and nearly screamed when Vin touched him, he was so sensitive. His penis and Vin’s were leaking come, slick with it. Chris stroked and fondled, daring more than he thought to slip his wet fingers into Vin’s anus, carefully easing them deeper until he hit the small, hard gland and flicked his finger back and forth. Vin bucked up, tensed, cried out, came. The heat and warmth of his semen spurted over Chris’s hand, driving him over the edge with his lover. Their seed mingled and their bodies slid against each other milking the last pleasure out of their shared climax until Chris collapsed over Vin, wrapping him in hard, strong arms. Kissing him, breathing in his scent, overwhelmed by the physical and emotional sensations being with Vin roused in him.

When he raised his head, Tanner was watching him with wonder and amusement. He stroked a finger down Chris’s cheek. “Reckon we’re even fer now,” he said.

“For now?”

“Yeah,” He gave Chris a look from beneath long lashes that sent a quiver of arousal down his spine. “I reckon we could spend a lot of time balancin’ and unbalancin’ that account.”

Chris sighed, letting go of some residual doubts about his lovemaking. He shifted around so that he was pressed against the back of the sofa and Vin was tucked against him, his ass fitting sweetly into the curve of Chris’s body. Chris nuzzled against Vin’s shoulder. “I gotta tell you, partner, I did things with you I never thought of doin’ with another man.”

Vin turned in the circle of Chris’s arms, gave him a fierce look. “Better not think of doin’ em, neither, Larabee. I ain’t had so much in m’life that I take kindly t’sharin’.”

Chris kissed Vin gently. “There’s more I need to learn,” he said and felt a rare blush on his cheeks. “I know there’s more to bein’ with you than what we did.” He cleared his throat. “I want to know it all. Do it all. Be with you every way I can be with you.”

“Ya trust me, Chris?” His eyes widened.

“I trust you with my life. I sure trust you to teach me to be your lover.”

Vin’s breath drew in sharply as if Chris had startled him, then he smiled widely. “I got a feelin’ yer gonna be a real quick study.”

“Might take a lot of private lessons,” he whispered against Vin’s lips. “I’d learn faster that way.”

“Slow’s better sometimes.” His finger traced the shell of Chris’s ear, making him shudder. “I gotta make sure ya learn every lesson real good. Test ya two r’ three times b’fore we move on t’the next one.” He arched his spine and his cock brushed against Chris’s; both of them limp, but not beyond sensation. “An’ then there’s homework and extra credit ...”

Chris silenced him with a kiss. “Sorry, teach. Class is dismissed. At least for tonight.” He sat up, dragged the afghan from the back of the sofa, spread it over Vin and stood up, making sure it was tucked in securely around his body. Tanner curled up, the covering drawn tight under his chin. Chris smiled at the picture, wondering how his emotions could swing from passion to protectiveness so quickly. “I’ll get some towels so we can clean up. You want some water?”

Vin nodded sleepily. “Yeah. Chris?”

“Hmm?”

“Nobody loved me like you done tonight. Might be other fellers had my body, but none of ‘em gave me what you did.”

“What?” Chris asked curiously, gently.

“Ya loved me with yer heart. I felt it.”

Chris smiled. “Yeah, you sure did. And you always will.”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 6

Chris stretched out his shoulders as he waited for the traffic jam to let up. It had been a hellish week. Josiah was in Phoenix testifying at a competency hearing for a notorious serial bomber who was bucking for an plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. Nathan was at a training seminar to keep his EMT certification up to date. Ezra was on assignment with the Treasury Department; which left Chris with Buck and JD in the office and no Vin to set a buffer zone between them. No wonder he was driving home with a migraine threatening and a stomach in rebellion. At least he *was* driving home.

Home. Not just a house. A place filled with love, with Vin. He’d had his last appointment with the vascular surgeon this afternoon and Chris had been waiting all day for his phone call. There hadn’t been one. Which could mean that Vin had forgotten, or that he was still at the hospital, or that something wasn’t right ...

Not that, Lord. Not that.

Chris dismissed those worries. It wasn’t likely anything was wrong the way he and Tanner had been working on things ... working on learning to know each other’s bodies. Last night in front of the fire ... both of them naked, Chris stretched out while Vin ever so slowly brought him to arousal with gentle touches, kisses, licks; learning every part of his body, tasting him, sucking him off. Then letting Chris do the same to him. Chris ached at the memory and his cock hardened. He shifted, grateful that he was wearing a suit with loose, pleated trousers and not his tight-fitting jeans.

If Vin had gotten the all clear, the next step in their relationship was inevitable. Chris was torn between want and need and his own wary nature. Possession, one way or another, was a scary committment. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea of being taken, or taking ... his mind kept tangling with the thought that what a man did with a woman was different, and yet, he knew it wasn’t, not really. Sarah had given herself to him – he hadn’t *taken* anything from her. Why should he balk at the idea of giving, or giving in, to Vin?

Hell, where was his vaunted intellect when he needed it? Frustrated, he slammed the heel of his palm on his horn and responded in kind when the guy in front of him gave him the finger. The ring of his cell phone distracted him from his anger and he answered it in a voice that was more like a growl than a greeting.

“Ya miss yer daily dose of sweetness and light, Larabee?” Vin sounded astonishingly chipper and cheerful.

“Maybe that’s because *somebody* forgot to call me,” Chris said acidly.

“I didn’t fergit. Jist got finished at the hospital. Couldn’t use my phone with all that fancy equipment they got in the labs these days.”

“Well?” Chris knew he was holding his breath.

“I got what ya call a clean bill of health. Ever’thing’s healed up real good. I’m clear for work ‘r jist about anything you c’n think of.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper.

Chris’s blood shot to his groin. “I can think of quite a few things, especially since I’m stuck in the longest, slowest traffic jam in the history of Denver.” He looked at his watch, at his speedometer. ““I’ll be home in an hour.”

Vin chuckled. “Take yer time. I’ve got everything under control.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Chris muttered sotto voce. Great, Tanner had everything under control just when he had *nothing* under control.

“I’ll be waitin’ fer ya, lover.” Vin dragged out that last word, his voice and breath as palpable as if he were drawing a finger down the length of Chris’s cock.

Chris groaned. He was in trouble. Big trouble. And he was already hard with anticipation. It was going to be a very long hour ...

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

The stream of cars thinned as the highway threaded north and west past the suburban sprawl. Chris turned off to the secondary, two lane highway. The sun had set behind the foothills of the mountains and he no longer had to squint. His headache and acidic stomach both settled down. He found himself humming along with the radio, realizing that the words to the song fit his mood, his thoughts, perfectly.

From nine to five it’s the same old grind all week long.  
And the only thing that keeps me sane is coming home.  
When the sun goes down, you know how to set things right.  
Let’s put the day behind us and bring on the night.

Bring on the night, pull down the shades  
Lock the world outside and throw the key away.  
Turn on this feeling, and turn out the lights,  
Let’s call it a day and bring on the night.*

He pressed down the accelerator and sped down a finally deserted highway to his home.

The porch lamp glimmered at the end of the long driveway. The front of the house was dark, but as Chris pulled into the garage, his heart quickened. He hadn’t felt that lift, that hope, in years – thought he’d never feel it again – certainly never thought it would return in the way it had. Not in a million years.

He retrieved his computer case and suit coat from the back seat of the Ram, then went inside. He stood in the entry. The house was quiet, but not empty. Chris set his burdens down and toed off his boots. Smiling with anticipation, he padded down the hall towards the den where the shadows on the wall flickered and flared. A fire. Vin had laid a fire.

“Vin?” Chris said softly. He crossed the threshold into the room. It was silent but for the crackle of the logs, dark but for the dance of the flames.

No answer. Chris sat down on the sofa. He loosened his tie, opened his collar. Closed his eyes. Waited. He knew Vin was there by the scent of him; cedarwood and sage, fresh air, the faintest tang of horse and leather that told him he’d been out in the barn. He tilted his head back and felt Vin’s hair swing down and brush his face as Tanner’s lips drifted across his eyelids. He fluttered light kisses down Chris’s cheeks to his mouth, then feasted deeply. Chris brought his hands up to tangle in Vin’s hair and hold him close.

When they ran out of breath, Chris smiled and broke the kiss. “Clean bill of health, huh?”

“Yeah.” Vin’s hands settled on his shoulders and began a massage. “You got a few knots in ya, cowboy. Rough day?”

Chris groaned. “Does that clean bill of health mean you get to come back to work on Monday?”

“Reckon I hafta jist t’keep Buck and JD from tyin’ ya up in more knots than I got strength t’untie.” His voice rasped softly against Chris’s ear. “Good thing we got all weekend t’git rid of these.” He increased the pressure of his fingers and Chris felt like his muscles were melting from his bones.

Tanner’s fingers worked their way across his collarbone, down his pecs and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it from Chris’s trousers, then went to work on his belt. “Lean forward,” he whispered and, unresisting, Chris did. Vin stripped his shirt from his shoulders and tossed it aside. He undid the metal clasp on Chris’s pants, unzipped the fly. His hands slid down Chris’s chest and belly, down past the elastic waist on his briefs. Warm palms spanned his groin, his fingers moved through the crisp hair, fondled his balls, and Chris grew hard. Vin rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, then drew the slick of moisture across Chris’s lips. He moved to the front of the couch and straddled him, taking Chris’s head between his palms and kissing the taste of cum from his lips, slowly, lingeringly.

“There ain’t nuthin’ sweeter ‘n that,” he said, his eyes deep blue and dreamy. His thumbs circled Chris’s nipples, drawing them to peaks, then flicked lightly over the taut nubs.

Chris rubbed his hard cock against Vin’s groin. The thin cotton of his briefs felt rough against the sensitive skin and he shifted, pushing Vin back far enough to pull his sex free. Tanner was eyeing him hungrily. Chris wasn’t about to let him have all the fun. He stripped Vin’s flannel shirt off his shoulders and arms, jerking the sleeves over his hands, then grabbing the loose t-shirt and easing it over his head. Vin’s hair fell over his eyes and Chris combed his hands through it, pushing it from his forehead and back from his lover’s fine-boned face. He kissed Vin hungrily, his tongue exploring Vin’s mouth, every part of him. He buried his face in Vin’s throat and inhaled, drawing his scent deep into his lungs. Tanner squirmed as Chris fluttered his lashes against the sensitive skin beneath his jaw and he chuckled, amused that the deadly sharpshooter was as ticklish as a kid.

Vin suddenly twisted, pulling them both sideways and somehow ending up atop Chris, grinning fiercely. “Ya think I’m that easy, Larabee?”

Chris grinned back. “I was hopin’.”

Tanner kissed him again, hard, almost bruising his lips, then slid off the sofa. “Ya thirsty? I got a couple a’ beers coolin’.”

Chris lifted a brow, amused and wondering how far he could take this. Vin might have been thinking beer, but his eyes were on the rise of Chris’s cock against his belly. “Beer would be good,” Chris said. He stretched a bit, arching his back, watching as Vin’s tongue ran across his dry lips. Beer. Right ...

“Right,” Vin swallowed hard and fled.

Chris pulled up his briefs and zipped his slacks, but left them unbuttoned. He didn’t bother with the shirt, enjoying the feel of the warmth from the fire on his skin. He eyed the couch and decided that despite the capacious depth, the cushions would be better off on the floor. He tugged the coffee table aside and pulled the cushions down to the floor in front of the fire, covered them with the afghan and then surveyed his work.

“Ya look like a man with a plan,” Vin drawled from where he stood. He had apparently recovered his composure. Two bottles of beer dangled from the fingers of one hand, the other was in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened his palm, revealing two foil-wrapped condoms.

Something must have shown on Chris’s face; doubt, fear, maybe uncertainty. Vin crossed over to him, touched his arm. “You okay with this, cowboy? Ain’t no rush here if yer not.” He dropped the condoms into the open drawer of the end table, like whatever Chris decided would be all right.

Chris drew a breath. He took one of the beers, raised it in a toast and waited for Vin. “Let’s ride,” he said. He took a swallow of beer and kissed Vin, lips cool and tasting of yeast and sweetness. He slid the cold bottle down Vin’s spine and Tanner arched, cursed and laughed. He wrapped his arm around Chris’s waist. Kissing, they stumbled over to the fire, Vin trying to unzip Chris’s slacks and Chris trying to flip the rivet on Vin’s jeans. They ended up getting long legs tangled and falling, finally, on the cushions Chris had set out.

Vin lapped softly on some beer that had splashed on Chris’s chest. He drew his tongue up between Chris’s pecs, over the notch in his collarbone, passed over his throat. Stretched out full length over his body, he lifted his head, tilted slightly to keep his eyes from crossing, grinned. His eyes burned with blue fire, wicked and tempting, daring Chris to join in the game. Chris buried his hands in Vin’s hair and took up the challenge.

He rolled Vin to his back, plucked the bottle of beer from his fingers and set it aside with his own. He pinned Vin’s arms, kissed his way along the sensitive inner flesh, punctuating the kisses with gentle nips that set Vin to quivering beneath him. He stroked down Vin’s lean torso, sucked his nipples into hardness, licked down his concave belly to the gap at the waist of his jeans. He worked the rivet through the buttonhole, set his lips on the hard ridge of flesh beneath the denim, breathed through the cloth, the heat making Vin moan softly; then he jerked the zipper down and stripped the jeans from Vin’s body.

The sight of Vin, naked and aroused, was no longer new to him but still amazing. He was so damn beautiful, built sleek and narrow, with sinews of silk and steel. Chris ran a light finger over the healing scar on Vin’s thigh. It would fade, but never completely vanish. He bent and kissed the rough mark.

Vin’s hand rested on his head gently, almost a questioning touch. Chris looked up. “What? Is something wrong?”

“I ain’t perfect, Chris.”

As if it mattered. “Jesus, Vin. Perfect don’t live in this house.” He eased up Vin’s body. “Might come t’visit once in a while, though.” He took Vin’s mouth, teased his lower lip with his teeth, nipped lightly at the corner. Vin sighed and opened to him.

The heat built between them as their tongues twined and dueled, as they stroked each other, as their cocks rubbed and leaked cum. They were breathing hard and Chris was having a damnable time not fucking himself between their bodies. He pressed harder into Vin’s groin and Tanner pushed him over on his back with an impatient growl.

“Easy, cowboy. We got time t’night. No sense rushin’ it. Won’t be good fer either of us.”

“I’ll make it good,” Chris hissed and reached for Vin’s cock, only to have the Texan bat him away and catch his wrist in a hard grip.

“Uh-uh. Tonight, we’re doin’ what we was meant t’be doin’ from day one,” Vin’s words were a sensual rasp. “Tonight we’re gonna b’long t’each other in all the ways we can.” He ran a forefinger along Chris’s collarbone, rested it on the notch, then bent his head and bit down hard enough to make Chris arch up in surprise, He blew over the mark his teeth had left, cooling the skin and raising gooseflesh on Chris’s arm. He nibbled his way down Chris’s abs, lapped at his navel. Chris tried to pull his arm away from Vin’s clasp, but the sharpshooter tightened his hold. His eyes glittered in the firelight. “You got some serious control issues goin’, pard.” His voice turned caressing. “Ya gotta let that go, Larabee.”

“Fuck you!” Chris pulled harder and then stopped abruptly when Vin started laughing.

“Reckon we’ll git to that sooner ‘r later, but right now, ya might wanta let me lead.” He raised up, kissed Chris sweetly. “I’ll make it real good fer ya, Chris. Let me love ya, please?”

Vin’s pupils were dilated, soft. Looking into them was like gazing up at the midnight sky ... unfathomable and compelling. Chris made the conscious decision to let go of the formidable control and iron will that had held him upright through so many storms and so much pain. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to speak. Vin saw the release and opened his fingers. Then he began his practiced, determined and loving seduction of Christopher Adam Larabee.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Chapter 7

Chris thought he knew his own body intimately. He thought he knew pleasure. He thought he knew *Vin*. When he whispered, “Trust me,” Chris had no choice but to yield. He lay back, felt the warmth of the fire like honey on his skin. Vin’s hands were on his shoulders, pressing him lightly against the cushions. He leaned down, touched the tip of his tongue to Chris’s lips, limning them, then thrusting inside, first hard and seeking, then softly stroking. Chris tried to push his cock into Vin’s pelvis and the Texan stilled him with a touch on his hip. “Trust me,” he repeated and at the heat and need in those words Chris moaned, a sound he almost didn’t recognize as coming from his own throat.

Vin’s hands left his shoulders and spanned the width of his chest, his palms resting over the peaks of Chris’s nipples, the heat of his skin an exquisite pain. He licked Chris’s throat, teased his earlobes and the sensitive shell, then licked and bit his way to his pecs. He raised his palms, laved the hard buds and blew over them, the sudden chill making Chris cry out softly. He was cold, he was on fire, he wanted to breathe, he couldn’t breathe. His cock was throbbing, his heart was pounding. He took Vin’s head in his hands, pushed him down in a wordless plea for release.

Vin laughed softly and moist warmth brushed over Chris’s hyper-sensitive penis. “Jesus, Tanner!” Chris gasped. “You want ...”

“What do I want?“

“T’kill me!” Chris could hardly find enough breath to get the words out.

“Nope. Jist want to love you ...”

He licked the tip of Chris’s cock and that slick warmth alone nearly brought him to climax. “Then do it!” Chris begged. “God ... Vin ...”

Vin brushed a gentle hand down Chris’s face. “Ya want this?”

Their eyes met. Vin gave him a nod, reassuring and brief. He stretched out over Chris to reach the end table, opened the drawer and palmed a condom and a small tube. He tore the wrapper open and took out the rubber. Chris sat up. “Let me?”

Vin opened his hand. Chris rolled the condom over Vin’s penis, watched Tanner’s eyes darken at his touch. Vin laid him back. Kissed him, then settled between Chris’s raised knees. He watched Vin squeeze some lube into his palm, smooth it over his hands, over the condom. Tanner caught his lips between his teeth as if that small pain were the only thing keeping him from coming at the touch.

He shifted to lie next to Chris, spooning him. “You tell me, Chris, if ya want t’stop. I cain’t promise that I’ll be able to, but I’ll try.” The words were taut with sex and rough with tenderness. Any objections Chris might have voiced died in his throat as Vin wrapped his arms around his waist and closed his hand over Chris’s cock, the gel cool and slick on his hot flesh. He cradled his balls and slid his fingers between Chris’s ass cheeks. Chris closed his eyes, bit back a gasp as Vin massaged the opening. The sensation was startling, amazing, and an ache began deep in his belly, spreading through body. It hurt to breathe, to swallow.

They were both slick with sweat and panting like runners hitting the wall. Chris’s need to feel Vin deep inside of him was stronger than his instinctive fear of the unknown. He pushed against Tanner’s body, felt Vin’s slick finger slide into his hole and bit back a cry at the intrusion.

“Easy, cowboy. S’all right. Ya gotta let go to let me in. I ain’t gonna hurt ya, I promise.”

Chris concentrated on Vin’s voice, on the softness and passion he heard in it. He felt Vin’s fingers press in deeper and a stretching, burning sensation that passed quickly. Then Vin did something with his fingers that made Chris gasp at the rush of pleasure that swept through him. He did it again and Chris’s hips bucked involuntarily. Once more and Chris sobbed, pressing down harder. “God, Vin ... please ...” Begging Vin to take him, claim him, no matter the cost.

He felt Vin’s fingers slide out and gave a keen of loss that died in his throat when he felt the press and slide of Tanner’s cock between his cheeks and at his hole. There was pain, cramping as Vin’s penetration deepened and Chris thought he couldn’t do this, couldn’t survive no matter how much he wanted his lover. Then the pain eased and was replaced by a pleasurable fullness and heat. He began to rock, felt Vin begin a matching motion. His lean body curved tight to Chris’s, his hands closed over his cock and he began stroking and pulling at the same time he pushed deeper and deeper into Chris’s ass. His penis found the nub of Chris’s prostate and slid against it, over and over. Chris had never felt anything like this, had never been taken inside and out, had never felt the strength and hardness of a man’s body claiming his. The tide of orgasm was so intense that it was pain and pleasure at the same time. He rocked harder, pressed harder, felt Vin’s arms like bands of iron tighten around his body, the sweat pouring from them both. Darkness gathered behind his eyelids, then sparks of light exploded like fireworks and he climaxed in a rush of cum that spurted over Vin’s hands and over his own belly. Tanner’s body grew taut and still, and then he came; Chris felt his cock swell and the heat of his semen even through the latex condom. Hot breath against his neck and ear and words that were a shock, but not that he regretted hearing. *”God, Chris! God, I love you ... God!”* Vin shivered and convulsed, emptying himself like he was never going to stop coming.

Slowly, his body relaxed, though his cheek remained pressed to Chris’s back. Chris lay still, felt Vin reach to grasp the condom as his penis softened and slipped from Chris’s ass. He pressed close again and Chris stayed still, savoring the feeling of being close to his lover. He ached a bit; was stretched and sore but content. Sweetly, completely fulfilled. He sighed and rolled to his back, pulling Vin into his arms.

Tanner fit his head beneath Chris’s chin. “Y’all right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m all right. You?”

“Yeah. Better ‘n all right.” He drew a lazy circle around Chris’s nipple.

Chris squirmed slightly, his body still singing with desire. “Vin?”

“Yeah?”

“This was ... was pretty damn amazing, but –” He paused, a bit uncertain but feeling that what he was about to say was pretty important in this relationship he and Vin were building. “I’m not so sure I’ve got the makings –”

Vin stiffened, sat up suddenly, his spine so straight that it made Chris hurt just to look at him. He stroked a finger down Vin’s shoulder blade and the younger man flinched away from the touch.

“Fuck you, Larabee,” he said roughly. “I knew it, knew I shouldn’t think ya’d want this, want me!”

Chris realized that Vin was making a mental leap that was entirely incorrect given his usually acute perception; perhaps muddled by the sexual intensity between them. He sat up, reached out and let his hand fall back, wondering if Vin would burst into a flurry of self-protective action if touched.

“Vin!” He forced command into his voice, knowing that Tanner would respond. He did, turning to face Chris with hard eyes and a stony, hurt expression.

“What?”

“Will you for God’s sake let me finish?” He risked reaching out and taking Tanner’s hand. “You know this is all new to me. You *know* how hard it is for me to not be in control.” Warily, Vin nodded. “I’ve never felt anything like what we did tonight. Never. But I can’t – I can’t change my nature. I want *you*. Lord, I want you in every way ... But – ” Frustration made him inarticulate. He just held on to Vin’s hand for all he was worth and kept Vin’s eyes focused on his. “It was amazing, You inside me ... all of it. But I’m not, I mean I don’t think I can – I need to be ... Jesus! I don’t even know the words to use!”

Vin’s eyes widened, then crinkled with relief and laughter as he realized what Chris was trying to say. “Yer tellin’ me y’ain’t so sure about bein’ the bottom?”

Chris felt himself blushing and cursed. “Yes, damnit!”

Vin lay down, still laughing, and looked up at Chris. “I reckon I c’n live with that.” He pulled Chris down to lie beside him. “Ya know, it’s all right, Chris. I ain’t always in the mood t’be the top, neither. We’ll work it out.”

Chris relaxed; most of the doubts in his mind eased and he figured Vin was right. They would work it out. “You thought I was going to tell you I didn’t want this relationship,” he said, turning to see the expression on Vin’s face.

“It had crossed m’mind.”

Chris raised up on an elbow and brushed the hair back from Tanner’s forehead. “It’s never going to be like that.” He kissed Vin and when Tanner’s tongue teased his, he was surprised to find himself growing hard again. And equally surprised to feel Vin’s erection against his thigh. He grinned wickedly. “’Course, I don’t have anythin’ to compare it to just yet.”

“Ya want t’find out?”

Chris reached over, grabbed the other condom from the end table and held it out to Vin. “Cover me.”

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Tanner’s touch was deft, light, incredibly arousing as he rolled the rubber over Chris’s hard shaft. Chris kept his eyes locked on Vin’s, watching the firelight shift and glimmer in the blue depths. When the condom was on, Chris took hold of Vin’s shoulders and bore him back to the cushions with a kiss. God, he loved his scent; sage and cedar, fresh air, the moist heat of sweat, and now of sex. It was the most erotic perfume he’d ever smelled. He drew it in deep and combed his fingers through the thick waves of his lover’s hair, alive in the firelight with red and gold sparks and deep, mysterious shadows. He nuzzled into the hollow of Vin’s shoulder and bit down, leaving his mark as surely as Vin had marked him. A small brand that would fade, unlike the brand that was seared into their souls by the joining of their bodies.

Chris stretched Vin’s arms out in a hard cruciform. He kissed the muscular flesh of bicep and shoulder, explored the bow of his clavicle and blew lightly over the sprinkling of fine hair between Vin’s pecs. Tanner shivered, his back arching in an instinctive need for sexual contact. Chris rubbed his thumbs over the brown velvet of his nipples, feeling them grow erect beneath his fingertips. He flicked his tongue rapidly over the nubs, then cooled them with a breath, raising a soft cry from Tanner. Vin's hands were fisted in the afghan, not from tension, but from ecstasy. His back was bowed, stretching muscles and skin over the arc of his ribs. Chris slid his palms down those thin bones, felt the muscles quiver in response to the drag of his callused palms over taut flesh.

“God, Vin ...” Chris breathed. “God ...” No words could express the waves of emotion crashing through him as Vin’s heart throbbed beneath his hands. He laid his cheek on Vin’s hard abdomen, just listening to the rush of blood.

Vin’s hand brushed through his hair, compelling Chris to move downwards. He did, kissing and licking until he held Vin’s slim hips and smelled the rich musk of cum welling from his cock. He knew the taste by now, found it intoxicating, and was still surprised by the flavor every time because it was different every time; sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter, sometimes salty and fresh as the sea, smelling faintly of iodine.

He licked at the bead of semen, probing the slit and making Vin groan. He laved the velvety glans and took it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head, then stroking up the hard vein on the underside. Vin writhed and tried to fuck his mouth. Chris pulled back, smiling. Seems he had a gift for giving head and he was still amazed that he liked ... no, he *loved* giving it to Vin.

But he had other plans tonight. Vin was cussing up a storm at Chris’s abandonment and Chris moved up his body, rubbing his cock against Vin’s and kissing him, giving back some of his own taste. “Trust me,” he whispered. Vin’s eyes opened wide then narrowed, the thin skin beneath them crinkling with amusement as he heard his own words echoed back by Chris.

Chris shifted his hips, settling into Vin’s pelvis and felt Tanner’s cock cradled against the tender flesh of his groin. He would have moved then, rocking them both to climax, but Vin’s grip tightened on his arms. “Fuck me, Chris. I want ya inside me, like I’s inside you.”

Chris swallowed. It was what he wanted, too. “I will be,” he said softly. “I will.”

He found the lube and following Vin’s example, coated his palms and his sheathed cock. “Vin, I – how do I?”

“Like this ...” He reached to pull a pillow from the couch and tucked it beneath his lower back, lifting his pelvis. He spread his legs and Chris’s eyes went dark as he moved between them. He slid his hands under Vin’s tight cheeks and licked his shaft, sliding his tongue down to lave his balls, suckling them, then fluttering over the sensitive bridge of flesh to rim his anus. Vin cried out and his hips bucked. Chris held him more firmly and worked the rim, then slipped his coated forefinger carefully into the puckered opening.

He was inside Vin, amazed by the feeling of Tanner’s muscles clenching and relaxing around his finger. He moved deeper and felt the bump of Vin’s prostate. Knowing what that touch had done to him, he rubbed the gland and Vin sobbed out his name. The ring of muscle softened, and Chris withdrew his one finger and inserted two, scissoring and stretching the tight ring until Tanner was loose and ready.

He eased his fingers out and closed in, lifting Vin’s legs, spreading them wider to open him up, pushing in, trying to go slowly despite the urgency that was making his blood sing and every nerve throb with pain and arousal.

Vin was past patience. He grabbed Chris. “C’mon, Chris. C’mon ...” He impaled himself to the hilt on Chris’s flesh. And then they were both lost beyond care or caution.

Vin was so tight, so hot, so slick. Chris looked down at him, at the long, gleaming column of his throat, saw the fierce concentration in his face as if he were trying to imprint every sensation in his memory. Chris drove in deeper, then took Vin’s cock in his hand. Tanner cried out and writhed, lost in passion. He was so damn beautiful – wild and strong as a hawk in flight. Chris leaned down. “Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you come.”

Vin opened his eyes. They were dark and blurred, fathomless. Chris thrust strongly into him, pumped the hot flesh in his hand. And when he hit Vin just right, when the touch of his hand on Vin’s sex brought him to climax, he saw what he was looking for. Surrender, possession, eternity.

Chris came. His orgasm drove him deep into Vin’s bowels and he could not contain the harsh cry of triumph that tore through his throat when Vin’s cum spurted over his hand. The remnants of his orgasm shivered through him for longer than he thought possible; shocks of pleasure that faded slowly. He gave a last small thrust, and then his arms gave out and he collapsed over Vin, entirely drained by the emotional and physical intensity of climax and possession. He felt his cock softening and carefully withdrew, pulled off the condom and lay back gathering Vin close to his side.

He was weary, drained, complete as he hadn’t been for longer than he cared to think. He sighed and Vin looked up, traced his lips. “Still all right?” he asked.

“God, I’m so far beyond all right I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Yeah. Me, too. I ain’t never ... never been loved like that. The way ya make me feel.”

He moved against Chris as if trying to fit every inch of him against a corresponding inch of Chris’s body. Chris smiled. “That’s the word,” he said, and kissed Vin’s hair. “Loved.”

Vin grew still. “Ya don’t hafta say that,” he said.

Chris raised up on an elbow and scowled down at the man in his arms. “You *ever* know me t’say somethin’ I don’t hafta?”

Vin’s brow furrowed and he gazed up at Chris. “Nope.”

“Damn right.” He kissed Vin tenderly. “And I sure ain’t about to start now.” He ran a light finger along Vin’s jaw and down his throat. Vin’s skin was cool to the touch. “I think you need to warm up a bit, and we both need to clean up some.” He kissed Vin again and reluctantly peeled his body from the cushions.

He ran the shower in the master bath until the water was steaming, then went back to persuade Vin to join him. Tanner looked like he was on the verge of sleep; protesting when Chris pulled him up off the cushions, but following him into the bathroom. Chris drew him into the large, glass-enclosed shower stall. They stood under the cascading water, Chris wrapping Vin in his arms as the heat and steam warmed them both.

After Vin had been shot and pretty much moved out to the ranch, Chris had invested in two long, thick terrycloth robes, dark green for him, and dark blue for Vin. He’d felt pretty self-conscious about the whole thing, but after seeing Vin wrapped up and warm he’d let that go. Tanner wasn’t the type to indulge himself, not even when it came down to more than mere comfort.

So now, when they stepped out of the shower, the robes were hanging on hooks, warm and waiting. They toweled off, put on the robes, and returned to the den. Chris stirred the fire up and put on fresh logs while Vin heated pizza and got two fresh beers. He left the cushions where they were.

They ate, drank their beer, didn’t say much. And when they had finished, Chris reclined on the cushions and held out his hand. “C’mere.”

Vin raised a brow. “Dontcha ever git tired a’ givin’ orders, Lar’bee?”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He stretched out. “Fire’s nice and warm down here. The cushions are real comfy.”

Vin arched a brow. “You sweet-talker ...” He sank to his knees, then stretched out alongside Chris.

Chris gathered him close, amazed as always at how perfectly their bodies aligned. He’d never thought Vin would be a snuggler, but he was, seeking heat and perhaps more from physical closeness. Chris loved it.

He sighed and let his hands play over the curve of Vin’s shoulder. “I could get used to this,” he said softly.

“Might not always be like this,” Vin said. “Time and the job bein’ what they are.”

“I didn’t mean *this*. I meant ... this.” He kissed Vin, his lips moving softly over Tanner’s, his tongue sliding easily into his willing mouth. “There’s so much wrong in this world that you just need something or somebody to make it right.”

Vin sighed. “I never had that. And I ain’t lookin’ fer pity ‘cause I reckon I lost it b’fore I knew it. Cain’t miss what ya never had.”

Chris ran his finger down Vin’s face and looked into those wide blue eyes that held every shade of innocence and experience a man could know. “You have it now,” he said.

“Right now?” Vin’s voice was husky, his eyes glittering. But there was also passion kindling in their depths, and his fingers were tugging at the tie on Chris’s robe. Chris didn’t fight it, just eased over to his back again and let Vin unwrap him. Tanner’s hands drifted down this chest, to his belly and lower.

“Right now,” Chris said. *And always,* he promised silently. *Always.* Even though he hadn’t spoken, his body whispered those words as they made love.

 

The End


End file.
